Only Fools Rush In
by JoBethMegAmy. my homegirls
Summary: Booth and Rizzoli, two old army buddies, catch up one night and talk about the unattainable women in their lives, namely Drs. Brennan and Isles. Neither is prepared for the romantic chaos that ensues when a case brings their teams together. Rizzles, B&B.
1. Tell

**A/N**: I was surprised to see there was only one crossover for Bones/Rizzoli & Isles. Maybe that's because the two leads are basically the same people on each show, except Rizzoli is a woman. Anyway, I thought it would be fun to have the teams from these shows team up. I've taken some liberties with Jane's character (her background); and at this point, Angela's not with Hodgins. I think everything else should be self-explanatory. Happy reading!

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><p>It was a good day for the criminology team at the Jeffersonian—the best kind of day, when the criminal had been successfully apprehended and further murder prevented. Everyone felt like a hero, and normally this was when everyone would head out for a celebratory drink, yet Agent Booth was nowhere to be found, and neither was Dr. Brennan. On one more go-around, Angela was a little surprised to see Brennan sitting at her computer in her office, looking morose—not a usual attitude after wrapping up a case. Angela knocked at the semi-opened door but was not acknowledged.<p>

"Um…sweetie?" Angela said, tentatively stepping inside.

Brennan jumped slightly. "Oh, Angela! Hello! Great work on the case."

"Yeah…yeah, you too. We were headed over to Hodgins', actually, to celebrate. I mean, you'll probably think it's stupid, but he's gonna order a pizza and we're going to have a _Godzilla _marathon."

"Actually, I find the _Godzilla _films quite fascinating!"

"…you do?"

"Yes! Science fiction is one of the most overly maligned genres, yet it is often the one best suited to holding up a mirror to the time in which it was created. _Godzilla _appeals to most people because it seems to have an outrageous premise, but if one was to look at the film on a deeper level, one would discover that it was an attempt on the part of the Japanese to artistically reconcile with nuclear fallout and a disas—"

"Okay," Angela interrupted her with a laugh. "We _definitely _need you to be there to help us, um, dissect these movies to their full potential."

"I'd be delighted to come along!" Brennan said, shutting off her computer and collecting her things. "Thank you for inviting me."

"Of course," Angela said, scanning the room as if expecting Booth to suddenly come jumping out from behind a chair. "Where's Booth, honey?"

"Hm? Oh, he's at the Founding Fathers."

"Alone?"

"No, an old friend from the army is in town and came to visit him," Brennan said, leading the way out of the office and locking the door behind Angela. "They're just catching up."

"Cool. How long's he going to be in town for?"

"I'm not sure how long she will be."

Angela stopped. "This friend is a woman?"

Brennan was still walking. "Yes."

"Oh. Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry."

"Why would you be sorry that Booth's friend is female?"

"Because," Angela said, catching up. "Brennan, come on. Even if you _didn't _like Booth that way, going out for drinks after a case is your thing! It must be frustrating to have another woman come in on your territory like that."

The anthropologist fought to keep her voice steady as she said, "Booth assured me that this woman is just a friend—he mentioned no romantic history and his physiology expressed no particularly sexual interest in her visit. But, as you said, it would be completely irrelevant if he did, because I am _not _interested in entering any sort of relationship with Booth outside of work."

"Mm-_hm…_"

Brennan could talk all she wanted, but Angela knew it was bull. What neither of them knew was that Booth had been totally honest in saying that this old army buddy was nothing more than a friend, and she felt the same way about him. And so it would always be, because handsome and charming though Booth might be, it wasn't within his power to turn the head of a lesbian.

"Jane Rizzoli!" he laughed, getting up from his bar stool to meet his old friend. He had always loved the way Jane walked—initially because he thought it was just sexy, but as time wore on and it was clear they would only be very good friends, he admired it for another reason: you always got the impression that Jane was the most powerful person in the room; she just owned it the second she walked into it. (And, potential romantic partner or not, it was still pretty damn sexy.)

With a beautiful smile, she said, "Seeley Booth, how's it going, man?" and pulled him into a hug. Upon first meeting him many years ago, she had been impressed by his remarkable leadership skills, and later admired him for the way he treated everyone equally and respectfully. He was a good guy. They walked back to the bar together, and after they'd sat down and ordered, Jane said, "Wow. Seeley Booth. How long's it been?"

"Four, five years, I guess. I was up in Boston on a case."

She whistled. "Wow. Long time. Booth, this is stupid. We live so friggin' close, and we never see each other!" He laughed his assent. It was funny; this subject always came up whenever they happened to get together, yet neither of them ever did anything about it. Work always got too crazy. "Ah," she said, once the bartender had brought each of them a Sam Adams. "I've got to say, it's refreshing to just be able to sit and drink a nice _beer _with someone. My partner always has to go for that high-class stuff, champagne or wine, or some crap."

He raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Your partner?"

"My _work _partner," Jane said, not unkindly. "The chief medical examiner."

"Ah. Nice guy?"

"Woman. And yeah, she's nice." Jane quickly covered up with swig of beer, but she could tell Booth was looking at her expectantly. "We're just friends."

"Okay." They sat in silence for a few moments as Booth tried to think of how ask his next question. He absent-mindedly fingered some peanuts in the dish in front of him, then flicked one at Jane. She chuckled softly and caught it. "I'm trying to think of a tactful way to ask this, Jane, but I can't. So do you mind if I ask a potentially uncomfortable question?"

With a laugh, Jane said, "Well! My favorite kind. Sure, shoot. I mean, you can ask, but I might not answer."

He nodded. "That's fair."

"But in case you're wondering, I haven't seen Katy since I was discharged.."

She'd told him that four years ago, but Booth didn't mention that. "Well, this is sort of related to that. I was wondering if you'd ever …I mean, since the army's policy has changed, I've been curious as to whether or not you'd be… interested in going back. You were a damn good soldier, Rizzoli."

She tipped her beer at him. "Thanks, Booth, right back at ya. But no, I don't want to go back. And it's not because I'm bitter, or because …well, yeah, I do think it would be hypocritical to go back, when they kicked me out strictly on the grounds of who I like to sleep with. I just really love my job right now, I love being a detective. It's like a rush, you know? And you get to help people. It's like being in the army, except on your own turf, and on a smaller scale. Well, _I _don't have to tell you about that, Agent Booth." He smiled and took a long draw of beer. "Why, have you been thinking about going back?"

"I thought about it, yeah. But it's like you, I'm too involved here. I have a family here, my co-workers, I mean. And Parker, of course. I don't want to leave him."

"How is Parker?"

Jane had to grin at Booth's proud smile. "Oh, he's great. He's doing great, you know? Starts middle school next year, if you can believe that."

"Wow! All grown up, huh?"

"Yeah, it's pretty crazy. How're your brothers?"

"They're good. Frankie's in the force, hopefully on his way to becoming a detective, and Tommy…" She sighed good-naturedly. "Finally out of jail, and we're just trying to keep him out of trouble, which is easier said than done, sometimes." Ordering another beer, Jane said, "Okay now it's _my _turn to ask you an awkward question. Is there anything else keeping you here, Booth? Or any_one_ else, rather?"

What Booth and Rizzoli had always liked the most about each other was that no matter how long it had been since their last face-to-face conversation, phone call or email, nothing was ever really too awkward. Things always fell right back into place. They were each guarded on occasion, but especially in person, it was never too weird to try asking any kind of question. At this last one, Booth finally looked at Jane, trying to decide how much of the truth to tell her. But one look into those dark, trusting eyes, and he knew he had to be totally honest.

"My partner," he said in a gravelly voice. "We're like… ships passing in the night. I've told her how I feel, and she can't or she won't be with me, even though I'm pretty sure she feels the same way I do."

"Is this the same partner you had that time you came to Boston?"

"Yup, Temperance Brennan."

"Hm…my recollection is that you weren't particularly fond of her at the time."

Booth snorted a laugh. "Yeah, we got off to an awkward start. You've got to get to know her, and she grows on you. She's just… she's amazing, Jane. Amazing. No matter where you go—I mean, you could go dig up Einstein and Newton and put them in the same room as Bones, and she'd still be the smartest person there. And yeah, she's kind of obnoxious about it sometimes, I mean, she's not shy about being smart. But that's kinda cute in its own, weird way. She's confident, and she's brilliant, and she's beautiful. She says what's on her mind, she doesn't apologize for crap, and she's just—she can be really fun to be around. You think you've got her all figured out, and then she says or does something so out of left field and you realize how she never acts quite the way you expect. It's refreshing. She's a good, loyal friend, you know?"

"I do know," Jane said softly. "You just perfectly described Maura."

"Maura…she your partner?"

"Yeah, Maura Isles. God, Booth, she's just—she's _perfect_. I like her way too much, it's... kind of getting to be a problem."

"Have you ever told her how you felt?"

"No way. No chance in hell."

"Why not?"

"She's straight! I don't want to go there, it's never a good idea."

Booth shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I don't know what's worse, not acting on it or acting on it and getting rejected."

"Have you ever slept with her, your partner?"

"Nope. Kissed her, though."

Jane smirked. "Was it good?"

"Perfect."

"Except for the part where she turned you down afterwards."

"Ouch, Rizzoli!" Booth laughed, pretending to stab himself.

"Sorry, man. At least you know, though."

"Yeah, yeah, that's something. And since it's Bones, it's not really weird between us for some reason. I mean, I was so afraid of telling her how I felt and then having her reject me, and _then _having work suck because it would be awkward, but it's not. It's just business as usual, and we're friends. It would make all my wildest dreams come true if she _did _want to be with me, but… I'm okay with just being friends with her for now."

Just then, his phone went off, signaling a text from Brennan. "Good, this conversation was getting a little too gay," Jane deadpanned.

Booth frowned. "It's her, it's Bones."

"Booty call?"

"Shut up… huh. She wants me to come over—no, listen to how she texts: 'Hey, Booth – Angela, Cam, Sweets and I are at Hodgins' home enjoying the first _Godzilla _film. We felt the need to extend you an invitation to this gathering, and would also like to encourage you to bring along your friend, if she would feel so inclined.'"

"Wow," Jane laughed. "Sounds like a keeper, Booth! Can we go?"

"What? You want to go?"

"Yeah, I want to meet this woman. Unless that'd be weird for you."

He quickly tried to assess his feelings. Yes it would feel a little weird to have Brennan meet Rizzoli, bringing his past and present together in such a strange setting, but in a way he wanted it to happen. Jane was such a cool person and a good friend, and he wanted his other friends to know her. Also, he knew he could count on Jane to be discreet and refrain from dropping any hints around Bones. He had to laugh to himself, knowing that the opposite would be true if Brennan were the one in Jane's shoes.

"Okay," he said, texting Bones back. "I think it'd be a fun."

Jane chugged down the rest of her beer. "Great! Let's go. I took a cab, so if you've got your car, let's jet."

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><p><strong>AN**: So...worth continuing?


	2. Don't Ask

Booth and Rizzoli drove to Hodgins' house in high spirits. It was really a shame they didn't live closer to each other, because Booth couldn't think of another person, even Brennan, that was this entertaining to be around. Brennan could be fun, but she wouldn't have been able to sing and dance along to "Drop it Like it's Hot" on the radio, or enthusiastically bash a nearby car that had a Yankees sticker on it with the same zeal as Jane. Likewise, Jane was wishing Booth could just come be a cop with her in Boston. Granted Korsak was like a second father to her and Frost was a great partner, but sometimes she felt like Booth was just the kind of guy friend she needed. Maura was great to talk to and could be very comforting, but it was _so _nice to have a conversation with someone who didn't need an explanation of what was intended to be literal and what wasn't—someone else who acted on intuition.

"Booth," Jane said after a comfortable silence. "You're a great guy, I hope you know that. You are a _great _guy."

"Thanks, Jane."

"I've always thought that. You're solid. You're good. I hope that if things don't ever work out with your forensic anthropologist, that you find someone else who's going to love you and respect you."

He turned onto Hodgins' street. "Likewise, Jane. Really. Um…" They had pulled into the driveway. "You're sure you want to go up there?"

"Wait, we're _here_?" Jane asked, leaning forward and staring up. "Holy crap, is your friend a freakin' millionaire?"

"Well, sort of," Booth said, following Jane's lead and getting out of the car. "Hodgins inherited a bunch of money, but don't sweat it." He remembered how sensitive Jane could be about rich people who flaunted their wealth. "He's a really humble guy; I mean, he technically never needed to work a day in his life, but he's a genius at his job and really cool. We didn't even know he was rich until he was kidnapped and held hostage for millions of dollars," he added with a laugh, which Jane returned. "So don't freak out on me, okay?"

"Yeah, man, don't worry about it!" Jane chuckled as they walked up. "A butler's not going to answer the door, though, is he?"

With a fake smile, Booth rang the bell and said, "I _highly _doubt that." In fact, none other than Temperance Brennan had come bounding over to the door to open it. "Bones! Hey!"

"Hello!" she said, pulling the door back wide enough for the two ex-soldiers to come inside. She shut it behind them and extended a hand to Jane. "My name's Dr. Temperance Brennan, forensic anthropologist at the Jeffersonian Institute. You must be Jane Rizzoli—and you have exquisite zygomatic bones, if you don't mind my saying so."

Jane smiled, shaking Brennan's hand. "Yeah, um…I got everything you said except that last part."

"Oh, I apologize. Cheek bones, you have exquisite cheek bones."

"Thank you, Temperance."

Booth bumped Jane's shoulder with his own and headed down the hallway. "Just call her Bones."

"Actually, I'm not entirely fond of that nickname," Brennan said as she and Jane followed Booth. "It's a crude microcosm for my line of work, Booth. It would be analogous to a situation where I just started calling you Gumshoe."

"Gumshoe and Bones," Booth said with a chuckle. "I like it!"

"Sounds like a great name for a TV show," Jane chimed in.

"Well, despite the fact that Booth and I would make for extremely attractive television stars, none of the big networks would ever broadcast a show about our jobs," Brennan said seriously. "Our careers are far too grisly for basic cable censors. What about you, Jane, what do you do?"

"Actually, I'm a gumshoe," Jane laughed. "Homicide detective in Boston."

"Really! How fascinating that you both wound up in such similar lines of work!"

They had arrived in Hodgins' sizable screening room, and everyone inside it immediately stood up. Cam was the first to walk over and introduce herself, followed closely by Sweets. This distracted them all from noticing that upon catching sight of Jane, Angela and Hodgins wore twin jaw drops that conveyed a train of thought that was some variation on _holy-hell-that-woman-is-hot_. They were pulled out of their reveries when Booth brought Jane over to meet them.

"And this is Angela Montenegro, forensic artist and our specialist on facial reconstruction," Booth said, "And Jack Hodgins, our bug and mineral guy."

"Bug and mineral _expert_," Hodgins said. "I do in fact have several degrees."

Jane gave him an indulgent smile. "Gotcha. Nice house, by the way."

"Thank y—"

"So Angela," Jane said smoothly. "Facial reconstruction? What exactly does that entail?"

Angela reflected Jane's megawatt grin. "If I can be honest, I think it's really cool. I have a three-dimensional graphics program to assist with craniofacial reconstruction, which helps us determine what our victims looked like before their deaths. It comes in really handy for those cases where the identity is hard to, um, identify." Sustained eye contact with Jane was making her a little uncharacteristically nervous.

"Absolutely brilliant," Jane husked. "We could really use someone like you back at headquarters."

"Which is where, exactly?" Angela asked.

"Boston."

"Headquarters?" said Cam. "Are you a cop?"

"Homicide detective," Jane answered.

Noticing the look of keen admiration on Booth's face, Brennan asked, "What prompted you to leave the army, Jane?"

If Jane were the shy type, Booth might have worried about her being cornered into answering such a question, but he knew she wouldn't mind. Besides, she was out and proud. Clasping her hands in front of her, Jane said, "I'm trying to think of a clever way to say someone asked what they shouldn't have or I told something I shouldn't have, but I'm coming up empty. I was discharged under Don't Ask, Don't Tell." There were a couple of small, sympathetic gasps, but Jane just smiled good-naturedly. "I was really upset at the time, but I've come to terms with it. It was unjust and it was stupid, but being discharged got me where I am today, and I'm really happy with my life right now."

"Well…that's…an admirable way to look at the situation," Cam said.

"Thanks, I just try to keep a good attitude. People can be stupid, especially politicians, and that stupidity can hurt. But in my line of work—and in your guys' line of work too, obviously—you encounter real evil, real wickedness. It goes above and beyond being stupid. If I can't fight evil over there, I'm fine doing it over here." She had known that she was likely to be interrogated like this by Booth's friends, but she still wasn't fond of being the center of attention, so she cast about for a way to deflect it. "Speaking of evil," she said, glancing at the screen. "Is this the original _Godzilla_? I've never seen it…"

The group wandered back towards the television (where the movie had still been playing), but Angela took Brennan by the elbow and said something about going to the kitchen for more beer. Once they were in the hallway and safely out of earshot, Angela squealed and let out a breathless series of "oh my god"s.

"You certainly seem very pleased about something," Brennan observed, smiling herself because of what a relief it had been to hear that Jane was gay.

"Did you _see _that woman back there?" Angela laughed. "Or hear her? Oh, my goodness. Sex in a voice." She didn't give Brennan time to puzzle over the logistics of such an idea, plowing on as they entered the kitchen. "Wow, just wow. I have never wanted to get someone in bed so fast to hear them say dirty things to me in such a sexy voice. Ever. She's like a female version of Booth!"

"She's quite attractive," Brennan agreed.

"Attractive? Honey, that's a word you use when you're describing the doofus your friend is dating to try and make her feel better about herself. I don't think they've even come up with a word yet to describe such a fierce combination of hot and sexy."

"Once they do, I'll let you know."

"Knew I could count on you."

Soon they returned to the others with more beer, Angela making sure to deliver Jane's can personally. She was rewarded with a dazzling smile for her efforts, and sat closer to the detective than was probably necessary. Booth and Jane kept up a _Mystery Science Theater_-like commentary for most of the movie, entertaining everyone but Brennan, who thought film viewing should be done in a more respectful manner. Before the movie was over, the lot of them had managed to plow through nearly six boxes of pizza and more beer than any of them would've liked to admit—but Sweets and Angela seemed to be the only ones to have crossed their breaking point.

"Hey Jane," Booth said once the film had ended and Hodgins was switching it out for _Godzilla vs. Mothra_. "Remember that Kurihara kid?"

"Yeah, Kenji?" Jane laughed. "That guy was hilarious!"

"He was the only Asian in our unit," Booth explained to the others. "And he was the worst prankster, too—harmless stuff, but really funny. Jane, remember Cadet Miller? This girl had a Japanese haiku tattooed on her forearm, and for about a week, Kenji had her convinced it was actually a recipe for Tiger penis soup!"

"Sounds charming," said Brennan as everyone else howled with laughter.

Booth nodded, opening another can of beer. "Funny kid, that Kenji. Not a bad soldier, either—owes his life to Jane, though."

"Booth."

"Come on, it's a great story!"

"What happened?" Angela asked.

Ignoring Jane's (admittedly unspoken) requests for him to stop, Booth focused his gaze on Angela to reply. "Simple. There was a sniper, Jane saw him and Kenji didn't. He'd have been dead on the ground of she hadn't jumped in this guy's line of fire—got her in the shoulder, but only seconds before someone else got _him_ in the head!"

This seemed to impress everyone, but Jane only smiled grimly. "Just doing my job," she said gruffly. "I turned out to be fine, and Kenji was all right and the sniper was killed, that's all that matters." To emphasize how keen she was on changing the subject, she stood up and said, "Hodgins, where might I find your nearest bathroom?"

"Take a left and go down the hall, another left, then your first right—"

"I think you could use a tour guide," Angela said, standing up. "Come with me, I'll take you there." Yes, she was fairly tipsy, but she was familiar enough with Hodgins' house to remember precisely where every bathroom was located.

Once they had gone, Sweets guffawed loudly and Hodgins threw an empty DVD case at his head.

"What was that for?" Brennan asked both Sweets and Hodgins as the new movie began.

"Our friends just left to hook-up," Booth explained under his breath.

"To hook what up?"

"Female parts," Sweets answered. "To each other."

Brennan let out a laugh of understanding. "Oh! Ha, ha! Yes!"

While awkward laughter ensued in that part of the house, Angela was trying, in her own endearing inebriated way, to seduce Jane. "That was really brave of you," she said as they neared the bathroom. "Taking a bullet for that kid."

"Not brave, just my duty."

Angela let out a drunken laugh. "You know, you talk just like Booth! Booth's old army buddy, Detective Sexy McBadass."

"Wow," Jane chuckled. "I think I'm going to have to get a nameplate with that one on it!" She warily took a step back as Angela just chuckled and leaned closer to her. "Um… could you hold that thought? I actually like, _really _have to pee."

"Yeah, go ahead, that's hot."

Jane just grinned and shook her head, ducking into the bathroom—and, for good measure, locking the door. Going about her business, she tried quickly to clear her head: there was an incredibly beautiful woman out there who was definitely interested in her, and was probably just as definitely willing to have sex with her in that bathroom. Hell, it'd be good fun for Jane and Angela would most likely not remember it the next day. No strings attached, no complications. This'd all be good and fine if Jane Rizzoli wasn't a woman with scruples, but she had them in spades. Finishing up, she thought she could hear Angela doing a Godzilla impersonation in the hallway, but as soon as she opened the door again, the woman had straightened up.

"Oh no," Angela hiccupped, processing the rueful smile on Jane's face. "You're gonna break my heart, aren't you?" Despite making this (correct) guess, she walked over to Jane and cornered her against the wall, moving in closer.

"Let's not do this," Jane said quietly, giving Angela a gentle push.

"Why? Aren't you attracted…to me?"

"You're a beautiful woman, Angela, but I…I don't hook up, I'm sorry."

"I can change that."

Jane ducked under Angela's arm as the artist had veered in again. "Don't take it personally, please—besides, Angela is my mother's name, so that'd be, y'know, kind of weird for me…" This had just occurred to her, bringing the idea of sex with this woman to a whole other level of creepy.

Frowning, Angela turned around. "You could…call me Angie?"

"That'd be weird, too."

"Is there someone else?"

"Someone else?" Jane laughed. "Angela, I _just _met you, like two hours ago! And besides that, you are drunk out of your mind, I don't want to take advantage of you."

"Please, take advantage of me!"

Jane started walking back to the screening room. She thanked her lucky stars that she had been blessed with a good memory; otherwise, she very much doubted that she would have been able to remember how to get back on her own (and get away from being alone with Angela). The despondent artist sighed and defeat and followed, wondering aloud why it was that she always seemed to fall for serious women. Jane responded that she would probably have forgotten all about her the next day, when she'd be back on her way to Boston anyway. Everyone seemed a little surprised when the women came back into the room so soon, and Sweets giggled into a beer can at the look of disappointment on Angela's face and light embarrassment on Jane's. Soon though, they were able to fall back into their mode of comfortable simultaneous talking and movie-watching, getting them through the rest of _Godzilla vs. Mothra _and one more film.

It was nearing two o'clock in the morning when Jane finally stretched and said, "I think it's time for me to get out of here."

"Already?" Hodgins asked. "It's only…it's only…it's early, still!"

"It's _too _early," Jane yawned. "I need to be on the road in a few hours."

"Just stay the night here, everyone else is," Hodgins said. Indeed, Sweets was already asleep on the floor and Cam was curled up in a chair with her eyes closed. Booth was afraid he'd drunk too much to drive, and Brennan _knew _she had. "Come on, really," Hodgins insisted. "I have a guest room and everything."

"Oh, just the one?" Jane teased him.

He snorted a laugh, which quickly turned into a belch. "C'mon, follow me."

"I'd be fine on like, a couch or something, really."

"No, take him up on it," Booth said. "You've got a long drive ahead of you, Rizzoli. Rest up in comfort."

"Okay," Jane said, giving Booth a smile. "Lead on, Mr. Hodgins."

"Please, it's just Hodgins," he said, leading her out of the room. "Mr. Hodgins was my father… and my grandfather …and _his _father…"

Once Hodgins' voice was out of earshot, Booth turned to look at Brennan, who was staring as if hypnotized at the DVD menu currently replaying itself on the television. "So? What'd you think, Bones?"

"I think the series really drops off after the first film. It's as if the producers were only interested in recreating the most—"

"I meant about Rizzoli."

"Oh! Well, I can see why you two were good friends. She's clearly a lot like you, I mean."

Booth smiled. "In what way?"

"Well, she's very funny and smart, and obviously willing to put her life on the line for one of her friends," Brennan said. "Also, judging by her interaction or lack thereof with Angela, she's clearly principled despite possessing a masculine, dominant energy that women find irresistible."

"Did _you_ find it irresistible?" Booth asked with a smirk.

"I would have, if I had any sexual proclivity towards women," Brennan answered, fighting a yawn.

"And yet…and yet you _do _find _my _brand of masculine, dominant energy totally resistible, right?"

Brennan tried to focus her gaze on him. "I don't know if I'm comfortable using such an exclusive term as 'totally.'"

By the time Booth had figured out the implications of what that meant, Brennan was lying on her side on the couch, with her eyes shut and mouth hanging open. Booth whispered her name a couple of times, but it seemed that she really was asleep, so he resignedly leaned back in his own chair and tried to catch a few winks.

At 8:30 the next morning, Jane woke up to the sound of her phone buzzing on the nightstand. For a moment she thought the noise was coming from somebody drilling outside, but then she caught sight of her vibrating phone and hastened to pick it up. "Rizzoli."

"Jane!"

She sat up at the sound of her partner's voice. "Maura! Um, good morning…"

"Are you on the road yet?"

"I was just about to leave…"

"Good. It'll take you approximately eight hours and twenty-nine minutes to get back to Boston, not including time for rest stops. You need to be back in time for Tommy's birthday dinner at my house, or your mother told me to tell you she might never forgive you."

With a groan, Jane slowly turned and hung her legs over the side of the bed. "I know, I cut it pretty close. I'll get there as soon as I can, Maura."

"Well, it can't possibly be sooner than eight hours and twenty-nine minutes from now unless you speed, which would be breaking the law, which would be bad since you're in law enforcement."

"Maybe I'll just get out my siren and get to Boston in four hours." There was a long silence. "I'm joking, Maura. See you tonight."

"Goodbye!"

Jane hung up. There was nothing like Maura Isles' perky voice to cut through a light hangover. It had taken her a moment to remember where she was, because Hodgins' enormous and lavishly decorated guest room could not have been more different from the tiny hell hole of a motel she'd been staying in. Vanity was never an issue with her, but she did feel a bit self-conscious going back down to the rest of the house dressed in the same clothes she'd had on last night (and slept it)—but, she reasoned, everyone else would be in the same boat. Still, without the alcohol giving her a bit more of a friendly and confident attitude, she felt a little weird being around all of Booth's pals and staying in a stranger's house. It was only when she was standing at the door of the room that she realized she had no idea which floor she was on or how to find anyone else, cuing her to reach for her phone again and dial Booth.

"Jane!" he said once he picked up. "You haven't left already, have you?"

"I haven't even left my _room_—I'm lost and I have no idea where to find you in this freaking mansion!"

That made him laugh. "Okay, describe your surroundings."

"Um…there's a portrait of Thomas Jefferson hanging over the bed, and a bunch of colonial-looking dishes on the cabinet in front of the mirror…"

"Gotcha. I'll be right up."

About two minutes later, Booth had showed up at the room to escort Jane down to the kitchen. They had a good laugh about the ridiculousness of the size of the house, but big though it was, the journey to the rest of the group didn't give them enough time to bring up what they wanted to. So, they both got a cup of the strong coffee Hodgins had just made and joined everyone else at the table.

"I'm sorry, was I a complete ass last night?" Angela groaned. "I can't remember for sure, but I feel like I did something really dumb."

"No, you didn't," Jane said lightly.

"She's being polite," Brennan announced from the head of the table. "You showed her where the bathroom was, which was apparently some kind of code for sexual conduct, but judging by the haste of your return—"

"Nothing happened," Jane said, giving Angela a reassuring smile. The artist only muttered "oh, God" into her cup and tried not to blush. "Hodgins, thanks for letting me stay here, I really appreciate it."

"Hey, any time you're in D.C., you've got a free place to stay."

"What brought you to the area, anyway?" Cam asked. "Business?"

"Family," Jane answered before downing the rest of her coffee. "My dad just moved here, so…actually you might be seeing more of me."

This was met with general enthusiasm, especially by Booth, but there was something strained about Jane's smile. A few minutes later, she explained that she really had to get going, and Booth offered to give her a ride back to her motel and car.

"But wait, if your dad lives here now, why weren't you staying with him?" Booth asked as they hit the road.

"He's living with someone out here," Jane answered shortly. "In some woman's apartment. It's kind of small, and I didn't really want to be at her place anyway." A heavy silence followed this, and folding her arms, Jane figured she owed it to Booth to explain more. "He and my mom split up. Nobody's really talked to him about it—Frankie, Tommy and I, we all sided with mom. My dad didn't treat her very nice, but I shouldn't have shut him out so long. Besides…" She sighed heavily. "Dad was cool with it, with my being gay. You want to know the _worst _possible way to get outed? By the freaking military of the United States."

Booth turned to stare at her, an admittedly bad idea while driving. "Your parents didn't know you were gay until you were discharged?"

"Nope. Not for sure, anyway. I couldn't bring myself to tell Ma, she was so hung up on having a girly daughter. She had all these hopes and dreams for me, and they all depended on my being straight! I don't mean to complain, I mean it could have been so much worse—she might have never wanted to see me again, or asked me to try and get therapy to change, or something. But she's so disappointed, I can see that. Dad never made me feel weird about it."

"Well, that's something," Booth said. "Look, Jane, if your dad stays here and you ever come back, just stay with me! You don't have to go to Hodgins' place, I got room just as well as anybody else."

"Thanks, Booth. I might take you up on it." A few more silent moments passed, but they were considerably less awkward than the ones that had gone before. "So," Jane eventually drawled. "I gotta tell you, that Brennan is something else."

"Yeah, she's pretty…upfront about stuff," Booth chuckled.

"I've been trying to think—she and my Maura would either be best friends, or they'd drive each other crazy."

"_Your_…Maura?"

"Oh, geez," Jane said, putting her face in her hand and groaning a laugh. "Maura, you know, the one I told you about. She called this morning to make sure I was on my way to come back. It's Tommy's birthday, so she and my mom planned this nice dinner for him at Maura's house."

"So she's pretty close to your family, then?"

"Yeah, they love her. Especially my mom, she's like the straight, feminine daughter she never had."

"Maybe you should tell your mom how you feel about this woman."

"Maybe _you _should…mind your own business."

"Clever, Rizzoli."

"Shut up, Booth."

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><p><strong>AN**: Review for more! :)


	3. Birthday Boy

**A/N**: Once I realized that Angela Montenegro and Angela Rizzoli have, well, the same first name, I decided to refer to Ma Rizzoli as simply Ma to avoid confusion.

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><p>It was nearly 6:00 when Jane pulled up to Maura's house, still dressed in the clothes she'd had on all day yesterday and starting to smell the worse for it. Her hair had been pulled into a sloppy ponytail and the circles under her eyes spoke to how tired she was. Grabbing her overnight bag from the back seat, she chose to leave the countless number of coffee cups she'd tossed back there on the drive and take care of them later. She ought to have just enough time to freshen up before Tommy's surprise birthday dinner, even though all she really wanted to do was sleep for two days straight. The front door was unlocked, so Jane simply let herself in. The house was decorated lavishly, and she had to smile to herself—Tommy would've been more at home with a decked-out bar, but Maura had really outdone herself this time. The table was set impeccably, and there was a fresh pine scent that told Jane everything had been cleaned recently. Yet strangely, there was nobody in sight.<p>

"Hello?" she called out. "Maura? Ma?"

"In here!" came a voice from the direction of Maura's bedroom.

Figuring that Maura was probably doing some last minute gift wrapping, Jane walked into the bedroom. Instantly she was met with the sight of the very nude Dr. Isles, the only thing blocking Jane's view of her body being a dark red dress that she was holding up against herself.

"_Geez_, Maura!" Jane almost yelled, averting her gaze instantly.

Ignoring Jane's discomfort, Maura said, "You've arrived just in time—I'm trying to decide what to wear…"

"Yes, I can see that. Anything will do, Maura."

"Well if you want to be technical about it, yes, I suppose it would," Maura said. "But I want to wear something special tonight."

"What? Why?"

"For Tommy's birthday. He deserves to see me in something nice, don't you think?"

"N—why? Maura, I told you before to please stay away from my brother!"

"I know, and I have," Maura said lightly, stepping into her close to select another dress. "However, you don't seem to have told _him _to stay away from _me_, and I certainly can't stop him from doing so."

Jane crossed over to the bathroom, painfully conscious of the fact that Maura's naked body was visible from the corner of her eye. "You could if you tried wearing a monk's outfit."

"I don't think I've got anything that falls into that category…"

"Look, can I borrow your shower?"

"Of course."

"Great. And when I'm done, I'd love to see you in something modest."

Maura only laughed before Jane closed the door of the bathroom. Normally she preferred hot showers, but Jane forced herself to stay put underneath an icy jet. She really needed to cool down. Catching sight of Maura's exposed body—even only partially or peripherally—had instantly made her body temperature skyrocket so high, she might have just been running in ninety-degree weather. It also burned her up to think of Maura dressing purposefully to please Tommy, and she didn't know if she'd be able to handle it if he tried flirting with the doctor in front of her. Birthday boy or not, anything offensively overt could land him in the E.R.

All these emotions made her feel unbelievably guilty. Could she blame Tommy if he expressed an interest in Maura Isles? It wasn't either of their faults. Sometimes, though, Jane had to wonder if anyone was onto her. They all knew she was gay, of course, but she had never told anybody but Booth (safely in D.C.) that lately she'd been crushing hard on Maura. She had refrained from any flirtation, determined to act casual and be cool just being friends. It had only taken one devastatingly horrible experience with a straight woman to convince Jane never to go there again, no matter how badly she wanted it. Why put herself through that pointless pain? Thank goodness Maura was brilliant at everything but basic human interaction. Otherwise, she would've been sure to notice how Jane felt about her.

Fifteen minutes later, Jane was out of the shower and dressed in a V-neck and slacks. Initially she'd planned on just wearing a T-shirt and jeans, but seeing how fancy Maura had made the place, she figured she owed it to her and Tommy to appear nice.

Of course Maura could always be expected to rise above and beyond the call of duty. When Jane walked back into the living room, she was greeted by her friend wearing a tight, emerald silk dress that flaunted her every beautiful physical trait (of which there were many): it was relatively modest in terms of cleavage—Maura was far too classy to ever show too much, but Jane still had to fight hard to keep her gaze from shooting directly to her chest; the dress stopped just above her knees, making it far too easy to ogle her deliciously toned legs; it cinched at her waist, showing off an unbelievably fit figure; and when she walked, it accentuated the firmness of a tight ass.

"Well, what do you think?" Maura asked, holding her arms up slightly.

Jane couldn't think of a single thing to say. She had yet to encounter a Maura Isles who looked anything less than gorgeous, even if she was in yoga pants. Every compliment that could be given had already been uttered at some point in their friendship and they all sounded inane in Jane's head right now anyway. _What do I think? Nothing. I can only wish—I wish you were dressed like this for me, and not my brother…_

Before she had a chance to say anything, her mother burst into the room with Korsak, Frankie and Frost, each of them holding a serving plate bursting with food. "Doesn't Maura look beautiful?" Ma asked loudly, setting down her plate and pinching the doctor's cheek. "Such a lady! And offering to host this party!"

"It's my pleasure, really."

Frost was about to ask Jane about D.C. when the doorbell rang. Ma instructed everyone to take their seats at the table while Maura went to answer it. Jane vainly strained to hear the words Tommy and Maura were exchanging at the door; whatever their conversation was about, it didn't last long because they entered the dining room a moment later. It was only now that Jane realized this was a surprise birthday dinner, a conclusion she reached when everyone but her yelled "SURPRISE!" and Tommy's face dropped into an open-mouth grin.

The food and the company was wonderful, and Jane found herself wondering what it would be like to just have a normal career and be able to enjoy these sorts of situations all the time. Girlfriends had come and gone, usually leaving because they couldn't handle Jane's job. There was always that possibility of a call from the hospital, a sense that every hello or goodbye could theoretically be their last. Jane didn't approach it that way anymore, but too many women did, scared that she was flirting with death every day (and frankly not getting paid enough for it). She found herself wondering how her mother handled it, with both her and Frankie on the force. It really sucked sometimes. It would be so nice to be something boring and normal, if only because it meant she wouldn't always having this nagging feeling in the back of her mind that she would never find a life companion because nobody would be able to handle what it meant to be with her. Wasn't that one of the reasons Booth had never married Parker's mother?

There was only one downside to the dinner, which was the fact that Tommy clearly couldn't keep his eyes off Maura—and it became increasingly apparent the more he was allowed to drink. He had been abstaining from alcohol lately, but Ma insisted his birthday was a special occasion and he was only too happy to follow this train of thought. Once everyone had finished eating (including the magnificent three-layer cake, courtesy of Ma Rizzoli), the lot of them went outside to sit on Maura's porch to have some wine—except Jane and Tommy, who stuck with beer. Frost, Korsak and Frankie were busily discussing Frankie's upcoming test to be a detective while Maura and her longtime houseguest had a fervent debate about the most recent _Project Runway_ elimination (something they had tried and failed several times to get Jane into). This left the detective on the side with Tommy.

"I gotta say, this birthday sure beats the last one," he chuckled. Jane waited for him to go on. He had never told her much about his experience in prison, and she'd never wanted to pry. Instead of talking about it though, he said, "Only… don't get me wrong, I'm glad you guys all came over, but I'm a little disappointed. I mean, when Maura invited me over, I thought it was just going to be her and me."

Jane couldn't think of a response and only took a swig of beer with a passive "mm."

Tommy was watching her for a reaction, for permission. "I mean, she's pretty amazing, don't you think?" he whispered. When this elicited no response, he grinned and gave Jane's shoulder a playful slap. "She's hot, right?"

"Don't say that," Jane said tersely, swatting his hand away.

"Don't say what?"

"I mean don't talk about her that way."

"Wh—it's a compliment, Jane."

"I know, I just…don't."

They both drank in silence for a moment, grateful that their last conversation had been quiet enough that nobody else was paying any attention. "You don't… _like_ Maura, do you?" Tommy finally asked, knowing full well that it could totally be a possibility.

Jane's answer was quick, but not so defensive that Tommy might read something into it. "Of course not. Maybe when I first met her, you know, 'cause she _is _beautiful, but not now, no. We're too good of friends, like sisters. Being with her would be like, incest or something." They both had a laugh over that. "Besides…"

Fortunately for Jane, this last word was drowned out by an uproar of laughter from the other side of the porch. Frost and Frankie were in hysterics, and eventually Tommy and Jane were able to gather that it was because a somewhat drunken Korsak had joined Maura and Ma's conversation about _Project Runway _and was throwing in his two cents about why Anthony Ryan should never have been eliminated. This effectively brought an end to the sub-groups, and everybody brought their chairs closer to talk.

Around 11:00, Korsak stood up to leave.

"Wait," said Frankie. "Don't you wanna stick around for Tommy's birthday punches?"

"Oh, you little barbarian!" Ma laughed. "Don't do that, it's so mean!" But she was ignored, and Frankie and Frost stood on either side of Tommy, each punching one of his shoulders as Korsak kept count.

When they had finished, Tommy flexed his arms and moaned, "Great! I won't be able to use either of these for a week!"

"I still think it's mean," Ma said. "Why couldn't it be something friendlier? Like birthday kisses?"

Frost stared at her. "Hm…no thanks."

Maura set down her wine glass, a little more tipsy than she usually let herself get. "Well, I think it's a lovely idea." To a couple of cat calls from the boys, she settled herself on Tommy's lap and gave him what would've theoretically been the first of thirty-eight kisses on his cheek. But before she could really get going, he put his arms around her and gave her an exaggerated kiss on the mouth. Everybody (including Ma) clapped and whistled, meaning they were all distracted from noticing Jane's face.

Not that they would've been able to tell quite what it was expressing, anyway: it was a combination of murderous wrath, extreme exhaustion, and devastation. The kiss seemed to go on for several minutes, though in reality it was probably less than about five seconds. It didn't matter; all Jane could childishly think about was that another Rizzoli had beaten her to it. _Not that I had a chance anyway_.

"Korsak, want to split a cab?" Jane asked, standing abruptly.

"Oh, stay," Maura said, still sitting on Tommy's lap with her arms around his neck. "Your mother and brother are going to be here, so you might as well."

"Yeah, I'll get a cab with you, Korsak," said Frost, getting to his feet and still chuckling. "Frankie?"

Frankie hesitated, waiting for an invitation from Maura as well, but there was only an awkward pause. He sighed in defeat, and after thanking the doctor and his mother for a fun time, left with the guys. Maura and Ma soon followed, heading inside to start cleaning up. Tommy was grinning like a fool, and Jane was forcibly reminded of the way he used to act when he drank as a teenager: stupid smile and stupider comments were a staple. They now stood facing each other, and Jane was only slightly aware that she was trembling in jealousy, even though she had no right to be envious.

"Rizzoli sleepover!" Tommy laughed. "I guess you can stay with Ma in the guest house. Seems like Maura wants to see me in my birthday suit."

A calm, not drunken, not tired-from-lack-of-sleep Jane would probably have only chided Tommy for such a crude comment towards her friend, but Lady Luck was not on the man's side tonight. He had been expecting a high-five, and got one—to the face. It dawned on him that he had never been slapped, even by Jane. Growing up, her route had always been to kick him under the table or punch him in the gut. But his comment just now had roused such anger out of her that a slap was the only thing she could think of to articulate her rage. Well, initially anyway: she soon had grabbed two fistfuls of his dress shirt and pinned him against the outside wall of Maura's house.

"You touch her and I swear," she muttered darkly, her voice at a dangerously low pitch. "They will never find your body."

"Whoa, sis, calm down!" Tommy laughed. "I'm just playing around!"

"You _do not _play around with Maura Isles, Tommy!" she growled. "And you will not ever let me hear you say something so vulgar about her again!"

By this point he'd already forgotten what he'd said, but he knew Jane well enough to know when she was serious about killing him. He quickly called a truce, and Jane suddenly let go of him, struck with a belated onset of embarrassment and desire for self-control. Still, she told him in no uncertain terms that he would be sharing the guest house with their mother for the night, and much though he'd hate to admit it, he was too intimidated by her to dare cross her. The two of them went inside to discover that their mother had already fallen asleep, slumped over a half-cleared table. Bidding goodnight to Maura, Tommy gamely picked up his fatigued/slightly wasted mother and carried her to the guest house.

"Do you think he'll be coming back?" Maura asked, biting her lip.

"No," Jane said curtly. "You should go to bed, Maura, it's late. We'll take care of all this mess tomorrow."

Maura frowned at Jane's tone, and looked on as the detective threw herself down on to the couch. "Please don't be upset with him," she said.

"For what?" Jane groaned, screwing her eyes shut and rubbing them with her hands.

"For kissing me. It was just a laugh—besides, he's been having a tough time lately; needed something to lift his spirits."

_That's not all he wanted lifted_, Jane thought to herself as Maura walked towards her bedroom. She was not about to let such a crude comment escape her (especially after threatening Tommy for doing the same thing), but she couldn't keep herself from asking, "Did you like it?"

Half-turning at the doorway, Maura said, "It would most likely have been more enjoyable had we been sober." And with a "goodnight," she had shut the door.

It felt like only a few minutes of sleep had passed when Jane was woken up by something prodding her feet. Groggily opening her eyes, she jumped and let out a yell when she saw Bass at the base of the couch, staring at her. She toppled onto the floor, managing to take the coffee table down with her. In a flash, Maura came running out from her bedroom, dressed in a blue silk robe and wielding a golden, two-foot trophy.

"Jane! What happened?"

"Your turtle got the drop on me," Jane grumbled, making her way back onto the couch and feeling a tad stupid.

"_Tortoise_," Maura corrected her, joining her on the couch.

Jane caught a glimpse of the trophy in Maura's hands and snorted a laugh. "What the hell's that?"

Maura chuckled and held up the trophy with faux pride. "I won it at boarding school for a science project I did on radioactivity. I suppose you think it's silly to have held onto it for so long, but I guess I'm just sentimental. Besides," she said, pretending to take a swing at Jane's head. "It's handy to keep nearby in case I need to fight someone off."

"You were going to attack someone with that?" Jane asked.

"If _you_ were being attacked, of course. You're my houseguest. I would be a poor hostess if I could tell you were being threatened and I did nothing about it." She patted her tortoise on the head. "Bass, of course, is another story." Maura smiled as Jane just laughed softly to herself, trying not to imagine a scenario where Maura might have actually come to her rescue. It was kind of cute, though… her, Jane, being the damsel in distress while Maura came to save her with an old high school trophy. Her thoughts were interrupted when Maura said, "So we never got a chance to really speak last night about your trip. How was D.C.?"

Jane stretched and shrugged. "Not bad. Some parts were better than others."

"How's your father?"

"Bored. I don't know why he's with this woman, Maura."

"I believe it's what you might refer to as a rebound."

Groaning into her hands, Jane said, "Yeah, I guess. And she had an amazing rack." She coughed and looked at Maura, forcing her eyes to meet the doctors and not picture what was beneath that robe. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, I understand how that could be a factor in your father selecting a partner. Although your mother—"

"NO, Maura. No," Jane mumbled. "The woman is nice, but I can't picture him actually staying with her. It's too bad," she sighed. "It would've been nice to have an excuse to go out to D.C. now and then."

"So I'm guessing you got to meet your friend?"

"Booth, yeah." Jane ran a tired hand through messy hair with a grand sigh, having no idea how attractive it made her look to a certain doctor. "Every time I see him, it's like I can't believe we don't see more of each other. He's a really awesome guy, Maura, I could use ten friends like him. I just don't know anybody like him, you know? There must be a word for what we are…"

Maura grinned. "I'm still your BFF, right?"

Jane smiled back. "Oh, of course. But there's something special about Booth, I dunno. We go years without seeing each other, but then as soon as we do, we're just sitting there at the bar like we hang out every day …I told him stuff I haven't told anyone else …I just felt so safe."

It was at this moment that Maura finally realized her feelings for Jane weren't totally platonic. While they might not have been exactly romantic, either, there was something a little odd about the jealousy she was experiencing right now. What had Jane told this Booth guy that she had never confided in her alleged best friend? What sort of things could they talk about so easily, so comfortably, after having gone so long without seeing one another? Jane's sexuality made it impossible for there to be any attraction between them, so what hold did she have on Booth? But most puzzlingly of all, Maura had to ask herself why she cared so much. It was nice that Jane had a friend like this to talk to, that there was someone in the army she liked.

"I got to meet some of his friends," Jane said, bringing Maura out of her confused reverie. "The people he works with. They were pretty cool, we watched some _Godzilla_ movies and ate pizza."

"That sounds like fun!"

"You think so? I wouldn't peg you for the _Godzilla _type."

"On the contrary! I think the science fiction genre is uniquely suited to reflect culture in a way that no other films are. It's fascinating. _Godzilla _is an allegory for the after-effects of atomic warfare in Japan."

"You're incredible!" Jane laughed, not aware that Brennan had given an almost identical run-down of the movie as she continued: "There's this woman Booth is hung up on, and she reminded me so much of you."

"Oh, really? How so?"

"You know. Brilliant, beautiful scientist." Years of practice had given Jane the ability to compliment a girl she liked without blushing, but she stood quickly anyway. "And quirky, too."

Maura stood as well. "Quirky? I've learned that's your not-so-polite way of calling me socially awkward." Jane only responded with a low chuckle, and began stacking dishes on the table. "You don't have to do that," Maura said, walking over and putting her hand on Jane's arm.

"I know," Jane said calmly. "But you didn't have to put together this dinner for Tommy, either. It was nice of you."

"Anything for my Rizzoli's!"

Slowly withdrawing her arm, Jane turned slightly away. Sometimes Maura made it too enticingly easy—did she really have no idea how much innuendo she spouted at Jane on a daily basis? After an awkward pause, Jane heard her phone go off. She hurried over to the couch and fished it out of the pocket of her jacket, which had been tossed onto the floor. "Rizzoli. …okay… yup, on my way." She straightened up and stared at Maura, who then ran back to her bedroom to get her own currently ringing phone.

On her return, she said, "We ought to leave your mother and Tommy a note; I doubt they'll be up for a couple of hours."

"Sure." Gesturing to the living and dining room, Jane added, "Then _they _can clean up all this crap while we go clean up a…" She was too tired and still a little too hung over to come up with something clever, and Maura had raised an eyebrow. "Never mind. Write a note, get dressed and let's go."

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><p><strong>AN:** Thanks for reading! Please review; those really help inspire me to keep going. Also, check out my profile for a link to some Rizzles youtube videos :) Gotta love those two- it can't just stop at fanfiction!


	4. Garden of Eden

**A/N**: So it dawned on me that while I watch a lot of cop shows, I'm still totally unsure of how to approach writing a legitimate murder/cause of death/anything forensic. I've come up with a sort of convoluted plot before realizing that's not why any of you are reading this story, or why I'm writing it. Still, I want to try and make it at least somewhat legit, so this chapter is setting it all up, and setting up how our teams will finally meet. By the way, thanks **alphabits** for pointing out my somewhat moronic mistake- I definitely meant Jeffersonian instead of Smithsonian!

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><p>Halloween had passed a couple of weeks ago, but the crime scene still looked like something right out of a horror film. Blood was splattered across the pavement of a narrow alleyway in all directions, and a disembodied finger, very decayed, lay next to the victim's head. The typical crowd had gathered in an attempt to see some sort of spectacle, but the doctor and detective pushed through them to get to work.<p>

"Oh man," Jane muttered, walking over to Frost and looking up at the tall building nearby. There was a broken window eight stories up. "You been in the room yet?"

"No," Frost said, trying not to look too closely at the victim as Maura crouched over her. "Korsak's up there now; I was waiting for you. Dr. Isles, what's your take here? Suicide, or—"

"Aw come on, Frost," Jane said with a one-sided smirk, clapping him on the shoulder before crouching next to Maura. "You know it's going to take at _least _a few minutes more for Dr. Isles to feel comfortable coming up with anything even resembling an estimate." Her smile had already faded as she got a closer look at their victim, a young black woman who had landed face-down on the pavement. "Geez, she looks like a kid."

Maura gently prodded the victim's arm. "I would feel more comfortable asserting an age between eighteen and twenty-five at this point, not a child or adolescent."

"Got an I.D.?" Jane asked Frost, standing up.

He shook his head. "No wallet, no nothing."

"Let's go see the landlord of this place," Jane said, nodding at the building. "Maura, you stay here and wait for the lab techs to bring our girl back to headquarters." She and Frost crossed back under the crime scene tape and headed for the entry of the apartment building. Before they could enter it, they were stopped by Cavanaugh, who was standing by a white-haired old lady, who was wringing her hands and fighting back tears.

"Frost, Rizzoli," Cavanaugh said curtly. "This is Irene Scott, the landlady of Atrium Apartments."

"Mrs. Scott," Jane said in her most solicitous voice on account of the woman's obvious terror. "Do you live on the premises?"

At first she appeared too shaken to answer, but she finally nodded. "My office is on the first floor, next to my room…"

Jane and Frost led the woman gently inside, where she offered them both a cup of tea. The detectives declined but encouraged Irene to go ahead and make one for herself, which she promptly did. Once she had sat down, Jane said, "When you can, we need to know the name of the person renting the room that girl fell from."

"Eight C," Irene said, staring straight at the wall. "I saw the window."

"Do you…know the tenant's name off hand?" Jane prompted her.

"No. It'll be in my book." She nodded at a nearby desk, tacitly giving Frost permission to go over and open it.

He found a thick brown book in the first drawer and pulled it out. Flipping through the pages, he glanced up at Jane and said, "Eight C—Edmund North. He's been leasing the room since last January …had a year long lease."

Not the victim, then. "Mrs. Scott, can you tell us anything about Edmund North? Race, age, anything?"

The old woman still couldn't bring herself to meet Jane or Frost's gaze. "He was white, and English. Had the sweetest accent, really! Medium height, I guess you would say—and very green eyes."

"You've been using past tense. Does he still live here?"

"Well…yes, he's paid his rent every month, within the first three days of the month. Always in cash."

Shoot. "Did he have anyone else living in the room with him? A girlfriend, a roommate, a cousin…?"

"Not to my knowledge, officer."

"Detective," Jane couldn't keep herself from correcting her. She immediately regretted it; Irene shrank back farther into her chair, looking very much as if she wanted to die at that moment. Jane stood up and put a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Thank you for help, Mrs. Scott. We'll be in touch with you if we find out any information that could be helpful to you."

"My other tenants," Irene started before trailing off awkwardly.

Frost picked up the slack. "We'll keep someone on round-the-clock guard of your complex, Mrs. Scott. And call us if you receive any information."

"Thank you, detective," she said with a nervous smile, accepting his card.

Jane and Frost nodded, then headed back outside. Their victim had since been laid upwards on a gurney, and Frost nearly lost his lunch at the sight of her head: a face was barely discernible; it looked like a pulpy mess. Jane put a hand over her mouth as Maura looked sadly down at the girl and started taking off her gloves. Gesturing to the victim's face, Jane asked, "Is that from the impact of hitting the ground?"

"Possibly," Maura said. She directed Jane and Frost's gazes upwards, pointing to a windowsill that jutted out particularly far. "However, it could have also been due to her hitting that sill at a high velocity on her way down. I'll have to wait for a ladder to be sure, though. Were you able to find out her name?"

"Nope," Jane muttered. "The apartment she fell from is leased to a man."

"Well, the apartment we _assume_ she fell from."

"Um…Dr. Isles, did you see the broken glass?" Frost asked.

"You think it's a set-up?" Jane murmured.

Maura shrugged. "It's not for me to say at this juncture. Once I get her back to the lab and run some tests, I'll be able to know for sure. We can do DNA testing there as well, and I'll have the results within a day, maybe two. I'm afraid her face is too badly mangled to help us recognize her any other way."

Jane bit her knuckle. She hated having to wait for so long. "Wait," she muttered to no one in particular. "Facial reconstruction."

The doctor narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"Facial reconstruction. One of Booth's coworkers is supposed to be an expert in it, or something."

"It's not an exact science," Maura protested.

"Wait, what is this, Jane?" Frost asked. Once his partner had explained the process to him, Frost grinned and clapped a hand on the shoulder of both women. "Let's make it a contest: Jane's friend's friend's artistry vs. Dr. Isles' laboratory. Whoever gets an identity first is our winner."

"It's on," Jane said with a grin.

Maura didn't want to give up that easily. "Jane, you can't just bring the FBI into a case like this without—"

"Look, Maura, all I'm doing is soliciting the use of some potentially superior or at least faster investigative sources," Jane said calmly. "Pride should not be an issue here. The issue is finding out who this girl is as quickly as possible."

Which is how Booth wound up outside Angela's office approximately forty-five minutes later. The team was experiencing a rare lull, having just finished a huge case. Brennan was busily examining some bones from ancient cases (as she was wont to do), mostly for something to do. Booth was basically just punching in, waiting for his next assignment, when he received a phone call from Jane asking if she could "borrow" Angela's facial reconstruction skills.

"Hi, Booth," Angela said, looking up when the man knocked gently on her open door. "What can I do you for?"

"Remember my friend Jane?"

"Rizzoli? Honey, not even Alzheimer's could erase the memory of that woman from my mind! …also, I met her like, two days ago. Why do you ask?"

Booth grinned, walking in and setting a manila folder on Angela's desk. "She's in need of your assistance."

"Sexual assistance?"

"Professional. Professional assistance, Angela."

"Right. Sorry. Professional." She curiously opened the folder Booth had given her, and recoiled immediately at what she saw. "Oh—oh, God."

It was filled with high-definition, close-up photographs of the face of Jane's unidentifiable victim. "Sorry, I probably should've warned you first," Booth said with a heavy sigh. "They found that body this morning with no I.D. on her. Apparently it'd take forensics a couple of days to make a DNA match, and Jane's too impatient for that, especially since you wowed her with talk of your facial reconstruction skills."

Angela was flustered. "Does she know I usually work with skulls?"

"She dropped a hint that she's betting you can figure it out faster than her chief medical examiner. Who is a woman, by the way."

That changed things slightly. "And if _you _were still a betting man, who would you put your money on?" Angela laughed, getting to her feet.

"Hey, come on! I put the odds on Angela Montenegro every time!"

"Good answer. Now leave and let me work on this."

"I wouldn't dare not to."

With time, determination, and the gratitude of Jane Rizzoli on the line, Angela was ultimately able to come up with what she felt comfortable deeming a rough draft. She called Booth to come check on her progress, and en route he was assaulted by Cam, who was a tad pissed that neither of them had cleared this with her. She lectured him all the way to Angela's office and was about to round on the artist herself until she saw the picture Angela had come up with.

Cam's eyes widened. "Angela, how confident are you in the accuracy of this representation?"

Angela spared it a glance. "Fairly confident, I would say. Like, over eighty-five percent, more or less. It doesn't look like someone you know, does it?"

"It looks a lot like Frederick Howard's daughter."

"No kidding?" Booth asked.

"Um…is that a name I should recognize?" Angela asked hesitantly.

"Senator Frederick Howard," Cam said, staring intently at the picture. "Delegate from Massachusetts. I have a cousin in Concord who followed his campaign very closely, and was always sending me articles …that _definitely _looks like his daughter."

Booth walked over to Angela's computer and googled a picture of the Senator's family. He looked back and forth from a photo to Angela's rendering. "Wow. Alicia Howard. That's uncanny."

"You said Jane Rizzoli sent you these?" Cam asked, sifting through the photos in the manila folder. She looked over at Booth, who nodded. "Get me her number. I want to let her know that if that body belongs to the daughter of a Senator, we are stepping in and helping out."

Over 400 miles away, Maura was piecing together as much as she could without a positive I.D. on their victim.

"Heard back about the DNA results yet?" Jane asked entering the lab.

"No, but I did find this in an inside jacket pocket," Maura said, handing Jane a clear bag with a small book inside.

Jane slipped on a pair of gloves and pulled out the pocket-sized book. "Oh man," she muttered, reading _The Book of Mormon _emblazoned across the front.

"There's a note inscribed on the back of the front cover," Maura said.

Indeed there was. Jane read aloud: "'Dear A.J. – I got you a copy of your very own so you wouldn't have to keep sneaking mine! I feel so blessed to have known you. Thanks for making this internship a wonderful experience, and I wish you the best in the coming year. Merry Christmas and happy reading! xo Eden.' Eden? What the hell kind of people name their kid Eden?"

"Devoutly religious ones?" Maura suggested.

"Would it be a guy or a girl's name?"

"Well, it's a matter of personal opinion, but the name sounds more feminine to me. The handwriting suggests a woman as well."

Jane slapped the small book against her palm. "We had some neighbors who were Mormons once. They moved away when I was about seventeen, and still coming to terms with being gay." She sighed heavily and put the book back into its bag. "Ma kept trying to set me up with their son, because he was really good-looking and so religious. It's too bad; they seemed like really nice people until you got them started on homosexuality. Then they turned into monsters."

Something about the way she was now looking at their victim concerned Maura, who always thought it best to remain neutral towards cases. "It's not uncommon for Christians to regard the homosexual community with hostility, but typically it's fear that sprouts from ignorance."

"Yeah I know, Maura," Jane said tersely. "I'm Catholic, remember?"

"Right, and you've managed to reconcile your lifestyle with the religion you were raised in. Your neighbors just didn't have your perspective or experience."

"Oh, so that makes it okay that they were bigots?"

"That's not what I'm saying, Jane."

The detective waved her hand and used the other to rub her forehead. "Yeah, okay, sorry. I know. That message Eden wrote made it sound like—A.J.?—wasn't a Mormon, though. When you undressed her, did you find any of that special underwear they're supposed to have?"

"Actually they're referred to as garments," Maura said. "And it's unlikely a member our victim's age would have them unless she was married or had served a proselytizing mission, which for women usually does not occur before the age of twenty-one. I've ascertained that A.J. is no older than twenty, and… the garments you've referred to are received only after a person has entered the holy of holies in a temple for marriage or mission preparation. There's one in Boston, you know."

"Actually I did. I've seen it. Anyway, I'm going to take this up to Korsak. Maybe we can do a search for missing girls in the area that match her initials and the description of her clothes, race, and age."

"If you'd be patient, I'll have the DNA results back soon," Maura called after her.

"I don't do patient when it comes to solving a case," Jane said back. "Even if this girl _was _a bigot, murder beats bigotry in my book and she deserves our best efforts."

As it turned out, Jane wasn't going to have to wait long for an official I.D. She was surprised to receive a phone call from the Jeffersonian that wasn't from Booth or even Angela, but Dr. Camille Saroyan. Jane had just reached the bullpen and was standing between Frost and Korsak as she spoke to Cam, putting her on speaker phone.

After explaining the hypothesis her team had reached, Cam said, "Booth just emailed you Angela's facial reconstruction along with a photo of the Senator's daughter. Take a look."

Jane strode quickly to her computer and pulled up the email with her partners looking curiously over her shoulder. "Huh. Yeah, I can see a resemblance, definitely. And you said the girl's name was Alicia?"

"Yes."

"Do you know her middle name?"

"Quick Internet search," Frost suggested, leaning over and typing. "Hey, look at that, Jane. It's Jane. Alicia Jane Howard."

"A.J.," Jane muttered. "Dr. Saroyan—the Howards aren't Mormon, are they?"

"Oh, goodness no. They're very devout Presbyterians."

"Not all of them," cut in Frost, scrolling down the family's Wikipedia page and jumping to cited sources. "Alicia converted to Mormonism last January, and apparently her parents weren't too pleased about it."

"Guys, I think this is our victim," Jane muttered.

Frost heaved a deep sigh. "And how about that finger bone we found at the crime scene, hm?"

"Mysterious, disembodied bone?" Cam asked, sounding puzzled."

"Any ideas, doc?" Jane asked.

"Just that you could use the input of Dr. Brennan, the world's top forensic anthropologist," Cam sighed. "Detective, how'd you like some help with this case?"

"From Booth and his brilliant doctor? Can't say no to that."

"We're on our way."

A few minutes later, Maura came running into the bullpen, which was quite a feat considering the height of her heels. "The victim is Alicia Howard, daughter of Senator Frederick Howard and his wife Patrice."

"Hear that, guys?" Jane said, trying to look surprised. "We've got the body of a Senator's daughter on our hands."

"Not to blur jurisdictional distinctions," said Korsak, "but unless I'm very much mistaken, it's often in the nature of the FBI to get involved in solving a murder when the victim is related to a prominent member of the federal government."

"It's not unprecedented," Maura stated.

"Great!" Jane laughed. "Because Booth is on his way down."

Maura frowned. "How did…oh. You already knew?"

"Facial reconstruction wins!" Frost laughed. "Sorry, doc."

"Your apology doesn't sound very sincere."

"And there's a reason for that," Jane snorted before her partner could say anything. "Frost, why don't you and Korsak go pay a visit to our local Congressman? And by Congressman, I mean Senator."

"The one who's in D.C. and should be talking to your friend Booth, you mean?" Frost asked.

Jane pulled an old Sunday newspaper out from the garbage bin by her desk, dated four days ago. "No, I mean the one who's home for the holidays," she said, tossing the paper at Frost. Its headline read _What Senator Howard is Grateful For This Term_, with a picture of him and his wife waving from their front door.

"Let's go," Korsak said, slapping Frost on the back and heading out.

"And _let's_ go get some coffee," Jane said to Maura. "I'm in so much need of caffeine that I'm this close to getting an I.V. to drip it into me."

"That doesn't sound safe," Maura remarked, following Jane to the main floor of the building. They each poured themselves a cup of Ma Rizzoli's wildly strong coffee and sat themselves down at a table in the corner.

Soon they were joined by none other than the cook herself, who declined Maura's invitation to join them. "No thanks, it's too busy here, but Janie—I just wanted to know if you'd identified that poor girl from this morning yet."

"Yeah," Jane mumbled. "It's bad, Ma. We're calling in federal help."

"Oh, my! Why, who is she?"

"We're keeping that under wraps at the moment," Jane said, knowing her mother's propensity for gossip. "Suffice it to say that my old pal Agent Booth will be coming into town."

Her mother's fear evaporated instantly. "That man from the army you've told me so much about? How wonderful! Jane, he'll have to stay with us!"

"Us? Ma, you live in Maura's guest house."

"Oh, that's right. I keep forgetting…"

"I wouldn't be averse to having your friend stay in my house," Maura offered.

"No, you guys are being ridiculous," Jane laughed. "The FBI will put him somewhere, don't worry about it." She rolled her eyes and took a long sip of coffee, suggesting that the conversation wasn't going to continue in this vein any further. Just as her mother was about to walk away, she said, "Ma, remember the Fields?"

"That nice Mormon family on the block? Of course I do! Darryl had such a big crush on you, how could I forget them?"

When Jane asked no follow-up questions, Ma just clicked her tongue and headed back to work. Maura had grinned at the thought of some poor boy crushing on Jane, but as her friend looked entirely grim at the memory, decided not to pursue the topic. "So Booth will be helping us on this case?"

"Yup. Kind of surreal, now that I think about it."

"Well, I'm very excited to meet him."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm excited for you guys to meet, too. You're both probably the best friends I've got."

Of course, what Jane had failed to factor in was how attractive Seeley Booth might be to an available, heterosexual woman.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Hope that was tolerable...I apologize in advance for any factual/forensic/federal errors that make their way into this story! Outside this chapter and a couple of others, I plan to focus mostly on the relationships of our characters. That said, reviews are greatly appreciated!


	5. The Best of Boston

**A/N**: Wow, sorry it took me so long to update this! You guys are awesome for sticking with this story, thanks!

* * *

><p>Frost and Korsak had recently gotten back from a lengthy, tragic interview with Senator Howard and his wife. The work day was nearly over, but they had called Jane and asked her to wait for their return. Once they had gotten back to headquarters, Jane sat down with her fifth cup of coffee of the day to hear what the men had discovered. They had asked for a detailed account of the couple's whereabouts for the last few days, as their daughter's time of death had not yet been finalized.<p>

"Worst part of the job," Frost muttered. "Telling the parents. And it was so surreal this time, you know? I mean, Frederick and Patrice Howard. Never thought I'd talk to them face to face, and definitely not about something like this."

"Did they have any ideas about who might've done it?" Jane asked.

"They were still in shock," Korsak said. "I mean, they had a hard enough time trying to collect themselves in order to account for where they've been. They'll probably call us soon with more ideas, but for now they could only think of an Eden Carlisle—Alicia's roommate at school."

"Eden? That's the girl that gave her the Book of Mormon," Jane said. "She left a really sweet note. They think she killed her?"

Korsak shrugged. "Apparently Eden's fiancé jilted her, and everyone was pretty sure it was because he wanted to go for Alicia."

"Fiancé?" Jane asked dumbly. "At that age? Yeesh…"

"So, your FBI guy here yet?" Frost asked.

Jane glanced at the clock. "Should be in about an hour. We were gonna meet up at the Dirty Robber, but Maura insisted on having him and his doctor over at her house for dinner, so we could get caught up in a nice place. And my mom of course argued that after driving all day, they'd appreciate a decent meal, so…"

So for the second night in a row, Maura and Mrs. Rizzoli spent several hours preparing for a special dinner, much as Jane tried to protest. She was certain Booth would have been just as fine with some take-out burgers as he would with bruschetta, pear risotto, gnocchi, Neapolitan chicken, and cannoli from down the street. Since there would be food to feed approximately five thousand, Maura had asked Frost, Korsak, and the Rizzoli boys to please attend as well. Frankie and Tommy were looking forward to seeing Booth again, having met him when he'd come to Boston on a case years previously, while their mother had been visiting her sister in Westchester.

"I hope you're ready, Booth," Jane sighed when he had called to inform her he was about fifteen minutes away.

"For a grisly murder? Always, Rizzoli."

She snorted a laugh. "Actually, I meant I hope you're ready for you and your doctor to become a dog-and-pony show under my mom's watch." In the background she heard Brennan say something like "I don't know what that means," and before Booth could respond, Jane clarified: "She is _dying _to meet you, Booth. She and Maura are setting a really nice table for you."

"Geez, Rizzoli, I hope you told her we weren't expecting anything."

"Oh, I told her you'd accept nothing but the best," Jane said. "She originally suggested just ordering takeout, but when I said you were accustomed to six-course meals and tuxedoed men serving you each one, she felt like she had to step up her game."

Brennan cut in again: "Detective Rizzoli, you should know that it's not uncommon for Booth to eat week-old pizza alone in his apartment, often while wearing a device that functions as both a hat and beer distributor."

"She was being sarcastic, Bones."

"Oh."

Jane just grinned and shook her head. "Suffice it to say your arrival is eagerly anticipated, not only so my mother can meet the man she so desperately hoped I would marry, but also so we can have your assistance on this case."

"Roger that. We should be there in ten."

"See ya soon." Jane hung up and walked back towards the dining room, where her mother was giving very specific instructions to Frankie and Tommy on the correct way to fold napkins. "Where's Maura?" Jane asked.

"Her bedroom—_no, _Tommy, how many times do I have to tell you? Look how Frankie's done it, do it like him!"

"Yeah, show me, Martha Stewart," Tommy joked, earning him a slap up side the head from his older brother.

Jane could only smirk as she walked towards Maura's room and heard her mother say "You two had better behave once Agent Booth gets here, or I swear…!" She knocked softly at Maura's door and went inside after receiving an invitation to do so. Closing the door behind her had the unexpected effect of actually drowning out the sound of the arguing Italian family that was just a few yards away. Maura stood at a full-length mirror, wearing an informal blue dress and putting on a pair of sapphire earrings.

"What do you think?" she asked, clasping the second one on and turning to face her friend.

"Beautiful," Jane said. She quickly smiled to try and alleviate the meditative lovesickness that had somehow snuck its way into her voice. "Uh—the earrings, really beautiful! Where'd you get them?"

"They were actually a gift from an old friend," Maura said with a grin, oblivious to how flustered Jane was. "I'd forgotten all about them until you happened to mention a while ago that Booth's friend had eyes like sapphires, and I would not rest until I found these again! So thanks for that."

Without entirely understanding what she was getting thanked for, Jane muttered, "Um… you're welcome. Maura, I just—I actually wanted to thank _you_, I mean, you know, for lending us your house all the time! Not just for letting my mom stay here, but for… y'know, first having Tommy's birthday here and now giving Booth and Dr. Brennan this really nice dinner, it's… it's really kind of you." Her hands were stuffed nervously in her pockets as she looked all around the room, anywhere but Maura's face. _Why are you acting like a spaz? This woman is your friend. It's okay. Hell, why don't you just tell her how you feel? At least then you'd have it off your chest, and she wouldn't be weird about it. She'd just tell you she was flattered but uninterested, and that would be that. No big deal_. Except that the longer she kept it bottled up, the longer Jane could keep the smallest hope alive that maybe Maura _did _feel the same way.

And then Maura's hand was on her arm, towards her shoulder, disrupting any train of thought. "I love being able to do what I can for you," Maura said seriously. "It helps me feel like I have a family. Without your mother or your brothers or you, this would just be a big empty house with one very lonely person inside it. So I'm afraid that _I'm _the one who owes _you _the thanks."

Jane grinned and fought a blush. "Well, I think we've thanked each other sufficiently now, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, I do think I would."

Though it was wildly difficult, Jane turned away from the sight of Maura's very kissable-looking lips and headed back to the door. "I'd better get back out there before Booth gets here, or else my mom'll beat me to him, and that'd be awkward."

"You're not embarrassed by your mother's eagerness to meet him, are you?"

"Mm…'embarrassed' isn't quite the right word," Jane said, opening the bedroom door. Then the doorbell suddenly sounded, and Jane was off like a bullet: she leapt over Bass, knocked Frankie aside, and shot past her mother to reach the front door. Slightly breathless, she yanked it open with a smile: "Booth! Dr. Brennan, welcome to my friend's humble home!"

As the D.C. pair walked in, Brennan raised her eyebrows and said, "Humble?"

"It's an expression, Bones," Booth said through his teeth, cutting her off before she could say something inadvertently rude.

"Don't sweat it, Booth, we love our outspoken doctors around here," Jane said, as Maura walked up right on cue. "Allow me to introduce Dr. Maura Isles, the chief medical examiner in our department. Maura, this is my old pal Agent Seeley Booth and his partner, Dr. …Brennan, sorry, was it T…?"

"Temperance," said Brennan, offering Maura her hand after Booth. "You have a lovely home, Dr. Isles."

"Thank you for having us over at such short notice," Booth threw in.

Maura smiled. "It's my pleasure. A friend of Jane's is a friend of mine, and besides, dinner seemed like a good way to express our appreciation for your assistance in this case."

"I'm only sorry we had to come to Boston on such gruesome—"

Before Booth could get another word out, Ma Rizzoli had broken away from Frankie and Tommy to come meet their guests.

"This," said Jane, sticking out an arm to keep her mom from running into Booth. "Is my mother, Angela."

Jane then made the unwise decision of lowering her arm, which her mother took as the green light to throw her arms around Booth. "Agent Booth, it's such a delight to finally meet you!" she said at an ungodly volume. The hug was nearly suffocating, but Booth smiled at Jane over her mother's shoulder to let her know it was all good. "Janie's told me _so _much about you!"

"And it's an honor to meet you!" Booth said once he'd been freed from Mrs. Rizzoli's death grip. "You must be so proud of having such an incredible daughter. I'd trust Jane with my life."

"Aw, what a nice boy!"

As Tommy and Frankie re-introduced themselves to Booth, Brennan found herself distracted by a small statue in Maura's living room. She drifted away from the rest of the group to study it, and Maura curiously followed her. Brennan bent down to get a closer look at the miniscule piece of art, which was a model of the New York City skyline made out of tooth picks and candy bar wrappers.

"This is quite exquisite," Brennan remarked when she realized Maura was standing close by. "Did you do it yourself?"

"Oh goodness, no, I haven't any talent for producing art," Maura laughed. "It's by my mother, actually."

"Is your mother Constance Isles?"

"Why, yes!"

"I profess to not knowing much about art myself, but my best friend thinks very highly of your mother," Brennan said, straightening up. "She's actually an artist herself—she does facial reconstruction at the Jeffersonian with us."

"Oh," Maura said. "Jane was telling me about her."

"Really? In what context? I was under the impression that Detective Rizzoli was somewhat uncomfortable around Angela, because apparently she made a drunken pass at her the other night."

"Jane made a drunken pass at someone?"

"No, sorry, Angela did."

Before Maura could respond to this, Booth and Jane had walked over, the latter saying, "Come on, no little sub-groups! Although it figures our two brainy doctors would have a lot to talk about."

"Yes," said Brennan. "I was just telling Dr. Isles about Angela's keen interest in having intercourse with you."

Jane was halfway between embarrassment and amusement, and was mostly glad her mother hadn't been in close enough proximity to hear the comment. "Well! Okay, then, uh …I don't really know what to say to that."

"Sorry, you'll get used to it," Booth said with a grimace. In a brave attempt to change the subject—and with genuine curiosity—he stared at a spot by Maura's couch and said, "Um, Dr. Isles, have there been any dinosaurs reported missing in your neighborhood?"

Maura turned to follow his gaze, and laughed. "Oh, very funny, Agent Booth."

"That appears to be a Geochelone sulcata," Brennan observed, crouching down to get a closer look.

"Yup," Maura said. "An African spurred tortoise. His name is Bass."

"Like… a sea bass?" Booth guessed.

"Oh right, _that_ would make sense," Jane teased him under her breath.

"Actually I named him for William H. Bass," Maura explained. "My favorite forensic anthropologist."

"Ah, much more sense," Booth shot back to Jane.

"He's mine, too!" Brennan said. "Booth, he's the one who inspired me to take my knowledge of forensic anthropology and apply it to criminology! He founded the University of Tennessee Anthropological Research Facility!" When this garnered no visible response, she said, "Remember? The Body Farm?"

Booth feigned recollection. "Oh! Of course, right."

They joined the Rizzoli's at a small table where some bruschetta had been laid out. Tommy recalled the last time Booth had visited, he'd challenged both of the boys to an arm-wrestle, and in retrospect, Tommy suspected that Booth had let them win. Booth merely grinned and said he'd give him and Frankie each an honest retry, and he defeated them easily. When he invited Jane to give it a try, she deflected.

"I don't wanna embarrass you, Booth."

"C'mon, you skinny-armed twit!"

"Ah, he's going for her pride," Maura observed quietly to Brennan.

Having not heard Maura's comment, Jane shot back at Booth, "Don't call me a twit, you dumb jock!"

"Dumb jock? You were the one who played field hockey!"

"Yeah, and I was damn good at it! Who's the one that went running away from that insurgent with the pen-knife like a little girl?"

Booth laughed. "I was leading him to an ambush!"

"Isn't the male ego fascinating?" Brennan asked Maura, who could only nod.

Jane threw herself down at the table across from Booth, setting her elbow down and clasping his hand. He knew that by now he shouldn't be surprised at her strength, but he couldn't help still feeling like someone had pulled a rug out from under him. Jane grimaced at the energy she was being forced to exert; their eyes were locked and she could tell his determination to win was equal to hers as their arms remained essentially stuck in the same position, neither of them strong enough to overpower the other.

"If you two don't wrap this up soon, dinner is going to get cold," Mrs. Rizzoli informed them.

"Can't have that!" Jane said, though Booth only narrowed his eyes and continued to smile in the spirit of friendly competition. Finally she threw caution to the wind and leaned in as if she were about to kiss him. This had the intended effect of startling Booth into slacking his grip ever so slightly, easily allowing Jane to slam his arm to the table.

"Dammit, you cheater!" he laughed.

"All's fair in love and arm wrestling, my friend," Jane said, getting to her feet. "But in the spirit of forgiveness, can I get you a beer?"

"You bet."

"Oh, my manners!" Maura gasped as Jane headed for the kitchen. "Dr. Brennan, may I offer you something to drink? I've got some wonderful Chianti nobody here has been willing to try."

"Ugh," Frankie groaned.

"Do you not care for wine?" Brennan asked.

"No, it's just the whole _Silence of the Lambs_ thing, y'know?"

"…I don't know what that means."

In an eerily good impression of Hannibal Lecter, Tommy stepped in to say, "A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti."

"Chianti would actually go quite well with liver, I think," Brennan said. "Although I'm not so sure about the fava beans. Regardless, I'd love to have a glass, Dr. Isles, thank you."

Maura dutifully walked back to the kitchen, where she found Jane about to leave it with a couple of beers. The detective smiled cheerfully at her, and Maura was able to reflect it only after failing to smother a look of discontentment.

"Whoa, Maura, what was that?" Jane asked, turning back.

"What?" she asked innocently, opening the wine cupboard.

"That look you just gave me. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Jane stepped in front of her, and Maura sighed in defeat. "Okay, I know, I'm terrible at lying. It's just something Dr. Brennan said to me."

"Did she offend you? I know she can be kind of, uh, brutally straight-forward…"

Maura shook her head, stepping around Jane and reaching for some wine glasses. "She mentioned this woman Angela made a pass at you. Is that true?"

"Well…yes," Jane said slowly.

"How far did she get?" Maura pushed, trying to keep her tone light.

Jane furrowed her brow, wondering why Maura was so curious. "Not far. She hit on me, that's all. I didn't even let her kiss me."

"Oh," Maura said casually, capping the Chianti again and moving to put it back. Jane shifted out of her way, still looking a little confused.

"Why'd you ask?" she heard herself saying.

"Just wanted to know," Maura answered briskly. "I thought maybe that was why you were so eager to get her assistance in facial reconstruction to I.D. our victim, instead of letting me handle it as I usually do."

_Oh, this is about her job_. _It's not personal_. Jane sighed as they walked out of the kitchen. "Look, it was just an idea. I still think you're the smartest person in the world, you're amazing at your job, and I wouldn't like working with anyone else. Okay?"

"Careful, detective," Maura chuckled. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

Just then, Frost and Korsak finally arrived, and after more introductions were made, everyone sat down at the extravagantly set table.

"Korsak, maybe you and Frost should fill in our D.C. friends on what you've learned about the case so far."

"Jane!" Angela cut in forcefully. "You promised me no business tonight!"

"I totally did not," Jane said back, looking affronted. "Booth and Dr. Brennan aren't here for a social visit, ma, they're here to help us solve a case."

"We'll just give them the basic details, we'll take no more than five minutes, I swear," Korsak said.

Mrs. Rizzoli huffed. "The dinner table is no place for such… unsavory conversation!"

"Ma, they're used to it. Cover your ears if it offends you," Jane said. "Make it fast, Korsak."

He and Frost spent the next couple of minutes filling in Booth and Brennan on the case, sparing the more grisly details for the cook's sake. Frankie and Tommy listened attentively as well, and they in fact had a very captive audience right through the end. Frost briefly described their only suspect so far, and Booth let out a low whistle.

"They suspect this girl because her fiancé left her, _possibly _for Alicia?" he clarified. "What the hell—'scuse me, Mrs. Rizzoli—what the heck is a kid that young doing with a fiancé, anyway? I mean, she's still in college, right?"

"Alicia Howard was twenty, so I'm assuming Eden is as well, yeah," said Jane.

"I don't see what's wrong with getting engaged so young!" Mrs. Rizzoli chimed in. "After all, I married your father when I was twenty-one!"

"Yeah, and look how well that turned out. Besides, you only did it because of Jane," said Tommy, earning him a quick kick under the table from both his siblings.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Mrs. Rizzoli," Brennan said. "While I certainly wouldn't feel behooved to wed the father of my child if I were pregnant, there is a very present prejudice in our Judeo-Christian society that stipulates a young, unmarried woman needs to marry the man who impregnated her. Your situation would have been very common, I'm sure."

Korsak snorted. "It was common in my case. My first wife and I got married right after high school, because she told me she was pregnant. Turned out to be a false positive but we figured we might as well give the whole marriage thing a shot."

"Didn't turn out so well?" Frost guessed with a grin. "Man, twenty. I was in love with Keisha Jones when I was twenty. I thought she was so cool because she was the girl who came closest to being able to do a slam-dunk on a regulation hoop. Made me almost want to marry her!"

"Detective Frost, I'm not sure that's a particularly strong reason to pursue a longstanding romantic relationship with someone," Dr. Brennan felt pressured to point out.

"It was an exaggeration, Bones," Booth said, fighting with great difficulty to avoid rolling his eyes.

"What about you, Agent Booth?" Mrs. Rizzoli asked. "Is there anyone special in your life?"

"Ma…"

"What? It's just a question!"

"Yeah, it's okay," Booth said. "Actually, I'm flying solo these days."

"His girlfriend didn't want to marry him," Brennan added.

He turned and gave her a look that gave everyone else at the table the feeling he'd had to do this several times before. "Yes," he said, turning back to Mrs. Rizzoli. "I had a girlfriend recently, but I guess it just wasn't meant to be. It's okay, though, I've had my heart broken before." He winked at Jane, who scrunched her nose at him, making a face. "I adapt easily."

"You had a crush on Jane?" Mrs. Rizzoli gasped.

"Just about every guy in our unit did," Booth answered. "Come to think of it, some of the girls, too."

"Well, what can I say?" Jane sighed. "I'm just that irresistible. Booth, I would totally date you if you were my type, anatomically speaking."

"Jane, don't be crass!" Mrs. Rizzoli moaned.

"You know, I just don't understand it," Brennan said all of a sudden. "Was Eden expecting a baby?"

"Not to our knowledge," Frost said. "But it's possible, I guess."

"It's only that I can see how you, Angela, and Sergeant Korsak would feel pressured to marry at such a young age because of your situations, but statistics show that even a couple of decades ago, it was more common for people to get married so young. It's much less typical in this day and age."

Maura joined the conversation for the first time. "Not in the Mormon community. Premarital sex is considered one of the most wicked sins a church member can commit. Since extremely young adults, or even teenagers, feel sexual urges, they tend to marry at a young age so they can consummate those feelings without compromising their stance in the church." She calmly sipped at her Chianti while everyone stared.

"That's absurd," Brennan finally said. "Sexual intercourse is nothing but a physical release, a biological urge. Restricting someone from engaging in it whenever and with whomever they want goes against nature!"

"Exactly," Maura said. "In their eyes, the natural man exists to be subdued. With God comes discipline, and with discipline comes godliness."

"How do you know so much about Mormonism?" Jane asked, looking amused.

"I think it's fascinating," was Maura's simple answer. "It's easily the most massively global religious organization ever to come out of the United States. While I may not agree with all of their standards, I think it's very interesting to study."

"Well I think any church that encourages people to wait until marriage is fine in my book," said Mrs. Rizzoli, passing around the chicken. "It's nice to know there's still people in the world with such high moral standards."

"Says the Catholic divorcee," Tommy mumbled into his glass, earning him another kick from his brother and sister.

Booth shrugged. "It's a nice idea, but if it comes at the cost of getting married so young, it doesn't seem very… practical."

"Everything seems serious when you're at that age," Maura said. "I'm sure it must be easy to think you're really in love, because you're so passionate."

"Passionate enough to kill, is the question," Booth muttered.

But then they made good on their promise to quit discussing the case, and less awkward conversation began (or it at least proceeded with as little awkwardness as was possible with Temperance Brennan around). The food was rich and delicious, and the alcohol was plentiful. After dinner, Tommy challenged Booth to one more round of arm-wrestling (best two out of three soon became three out of five), while Brennan accompanied Maura to the coat closet.

"It was very nice to meet you, Dr. Isles," Brennan said, accepting Booth's jacket and her own coat.

"I look forward to working more closely with you and Agent Booth," Maura returned, smiling sincerely.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"I couldn't help noticing that the way Detective Rizzoli looked at you during dinner was analogous to the way I've seen one of my co-workers looking at Angela," Brennan said matter-of-factly, pulling on her coat and flipping her hair behind the collar. "Are you aware of whether or not she possesses any romantic feelings for you?"

Quite stunned by this, Maura took a moment to respond. "I don't believe she does, no."

"You don't identify as a lesbian, do you?"

"No, I do not." She was not offended by the inquiry, but it did unsettle her slightly as she recalled her jealousy at the idea of Angela putting a move on Jane. "Besides, Jane and I are just very good friends. That's all we'll _ever_ be."

Brennan surveyed her for a few seconds longer. "I don't believe in absolutes, Dr. Isles," she finally said, before turning to go collect her partner. "Come on, Booth, you need to get to bed."

"No, I need to get _you _into bed!" he laughed, somewhat drunkenly, to the amusement of Tommy and Frankie. Brennan only sighed, grabbing his arm and pulling him to the door. They said their final goodbyes, and Korsak and Frost left soon thereafter as well. The Rizzoli's stuck around the help clean up.

"Jane, you didn't tell me how attractive Agent Booth was," Maura said.

"Yeah, he was a real hunk!" laughed Mrs. Rizzoli.

"Oh, guys, gross!" Jane moaned. "Don't talk about him that way, he's my friend!"

"And we're shamelessly objectifying him," Maura teased. "Don't worry, though, I intend to be completely professional when we get to work on this case."

"Good. I'd hate to have to call Angela and ask her to come down here and replace you," Jane teased back.

"Funny, my impression was that she'd have a hard time keeping things strictly professional around you," said Maura. She walked around Jane with a stack of dirty dishes, and Jane couldn't help noticing that this time, her tone had been just a tad more serious.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Thanks for reading! The reviews have been very encouraging, so please keep 'em coming! :) Also, I'll throw in a plug for my Rizzles-themed youtube channel, a link for which is on my profile. The only thing I love more than writing is editing together videos of our favorite non-canon couple.


	6. Wouldn't It Be Nice

**A/N**: Happy Thanksgiving! (to those who celebrate it)

* * *

><p><em>There was nothing like the rush that came<em> _with war. It was hell, it was ugly, it was horrible, but when God let you get something right for once, oh man, could it be great. Jane Rizzoli had just saved four men from their platoon, barely blinking an eye. Congratulations were heard all around, but the person whose acclaim she wanted more than anyone else's, even their commanding officer's, was Booth's. He was without a doubt the best friend she'd ever had, and thus the person she most wanted to impress. Time and time again she had tried to talk herself into trying to date him_, _but she just couldn't do it. She couldn't help but only enjoy Booth's company as a friend while she secretly pined after Katy Miller_, _a girl in their platoon…_

_She finally got Booth alone. He gave her a congratulatory bear hug, and as they got to talking, things somehow turned serious. He was holding her hand, but it had seemed like a brotherly move to Jane at the time_. _Now, though, he was looking meaningfully into her dark eyes, misreading the apprehension he saw there, seeing what he wanted to see._

_"Jane," he whispered._

_"No, Booth, please," she said, pulling her hand back._

_"I can't just keep it in anymore," he said flatly. "Do you…?"_

_"We're not allowed to fraternize," she said quickly, having a very clear idea of what he'd been about to ask._

_Booth laughed lightly at the hope that this was the only thing keeping her from him. "That only applies to commanding officers being with someone who's enlisted, or being with someone in a position to promote you! Jane, I've never felt this way about someone before …you're the most amazing woman I know."_

_Jane could only repeat, "Booth, please…" Tears were threatening to come out of her eyes, and she clenched her teeth tightly to keep them inside. She did not want Seeley Booth to see her cry._

_"Why not?" he asked patiently, getting the gist. Jane was trembling; when Booth reached for her hand again, she did not withdraw it, but her eyes remained cast at the ground. "Please, tell me," he said in a low voice. "What're you afraid of? Jane, I swear I would never do anything to hurt you. I'll cherish you for the rest of my life."_

_"No, I believe that," Jane said with a shaky laugh._

_"Then what is it?" he prompted her in the same gentle voice. "Jane, I can't be mad at you for not returning my feelings if you don't, but you have to at least know …I love you, I really do."_

_With a sharp inhale, Jane turned to look at him again. He was somber, but was quickly startled when Jane threw an arm over his shoulder and hugged him tightly to her. She couldn't hold in the tears anymore. "Booth, I—I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry, I wish I…" A long, shuddering breath escaped her in the form of a sob, and despite his rapidly breaking heart, Booth rubbed her back comfortingly. He had been so sure she'd return his feelings. But after another small sob, Jane went on: "I can't say I love you when I don't."_

_He nodded against her, bracing himself not to tear up. This was definitely not what he had expected when he'd planned to tell Jane he loved her. They'd become so close, they had bonded so quickly—what was the problem? She had never mentioned a boyfriend from home, but maybe she had just never felt inclined to share… "Jane, it's okay," he said, trying to imbue his voice with much more light-heartedness than he really felt. "It's okay. You don't have to—"_

_"Booth, I'm gay."_

_They both froze. Jane had not planned on telling him this, because she was only recently allowing herself to acknowledge it. The thoughts had drifted in her head for several years, but she had still forced herself to date guys, sure that she just hadn't met the right one yet. Ultimately she'd joined the army in the hopes that it would distract her, that it would give her something selfless to do, that it would be a legitimate excuse not to be with someone. But she'd known for a short while now that it was impossible, and that she was irrevocably attracted to women. She had just planned on never telling a soul, certainly no one in the army. Something had overtaken her just now, though. In a small, high-pitched voice so very unlike her normal tone, she had admitted to Booth her most carefully guarded secret. It had just come out of her, even when it would have been so easy to lie and throw him off. She hadn't had to tell him the truth, but her subconscious had demanded it happen._

_He had pulled back to look her in the face. Even contorted with grief and fear, she was still beautiful, biting her lip to hold back more sobs. If he was surprised, he hid it well, and if he was angry, he hid it better. But Jane didn't need to worry—he was far from being upset with her. Instead he pulled her into an even tighter embrace, worried only for her future. _

_"I don't know what I'm going to do," she whispered, more terrified than she ever had been in her life. She wasn't sure if she was waiting for Booth to say so__mething__, but it occurred to her that there wasn't really a good response for what she'd just said. It hadn't been very clear. With a hiccup, she elaborated, still crying: "I love the army, Booth, I don't want to leave. I don't want to go back home for this." _

_"Shh, Jane, it's okay," Booth whispered into her ear. "I'm not going to tell a soul, I promise. Your secret's safe with me."_

_She shuddered against him, signaling more tears. He was better than she ever could have imagined. "I wish …I wish __so__ badly that I was in love with you, Booth. You're as good a guy as there ever was, and I admit—sometimes I wondered if I could just …be with you, and have everything be all right. I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life with you, Booth, but it could only ever platonic. You deserve much better than that."_

_Booth pulled away again, far enough to look unblinkingly into Jane's eyes. "We both do," he said. "You've got guts, Jane, real guts. You've got bigger balls than anyone else in the platoon." That got a chuckle out of her. "Because you know, you're right. The easy thing would've been to just say yes to me, and maybe we—or I—would've been happy for a while. But if this is who you really are, it would've killed us both. You just saved us both a lot of future heartache."_

_Jane nodded, but still looked tortured. Booth would admit to still feeling depressed about it later on, because he had had such high hopes for them, but he got over it relatively quickly. She was gay, and that was all there was to it. But heartache remained a very real, very constant part of Jane's life for several months, as she told no one else her secret…_

It was 4:00 a.m. and Jane was still wide awake. At Maura's insistence, the entire Rizzoli family had stayed over once again—Frankie and Tommy slept on the floor of the guest house while their mother took the bed, and Jane tried the couch in the living room again. The couch was very plushy and comfortable, so it wasn't because of a lackluster sleeping arrangement that Jane was having trouble sleeping. It'd been so great to finally have Booth meet her mother and her best friend, but it had brought up a lot of memories, too, and not all of them good ones. With a sigh, Jane rolled off the couch and slouched towards the kitchen. If she wasn't going to get any sleep, she might as well get some work done and stop this depressing reminiscing. A tall pile of dirty dishes was left by the sink, and turning on the faucet so that only a small trickle of water came out, Jane began cleaning as quietly as possible.

She had just finished her third plate when she distinctly heard someone say her name, startling her enough to nearly drop it. Jane whirled around to see Maura standing on the other side of the kitchen island, wearing a set of gold-colored silk pajamas and looking somber.

"Geez, Maura, you almost gave me a heart attack," Jane said in a gravelly, tired voice.

Maura quietly apologized and walked around the island to stand next to her friend. "Why are you doing the dishes in the middle of the night?"

"Couldn't sleep," Jane muttered.

"Was it the couch? I really wish you'd have taken me up on my offer to share the bed; it'd be much more comfortable, I'm sure."

Jane just shook her head, continuing to wash dishes. "The couch's fine. It's other stuff." She glanced at Maura, and saw the doctor giving her a discerning look. This was one of those times she knew Maura would give anything to be able to read the most basic human expressions, as she could tell something was wrong but didn't know what exactly or if she should even ask. Jane decided to give her hand: "I suppose you're curious about what it is."

"Well," Maura sighed, picking up a dish towel and drying the first plate Jane had washed. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't, but that doesn't mean you have to tell me."

"I'm not even sure if I know exactly what it is," Jane admitted. "This has never really happened to me before. Even if I knew there was some psycho out to get me, I could still always sleep, but… tonight I just haven't been able to at all."

"You never pulled an all-nighter in school?" Maura asked, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

Jane snorted a laugh. "Nope. Sleep was way more important than decent grades, or even a good party." They continued their chore in silence for a few more moments, and the smile slowly left Jane's face. "Booth was the first person I ever told. He was the first person I came out to."

Maura looked over at her, but as Jane was still determinedly scrubbing a dinner plate, she went on with her drying. "Is that why you're so close?"

"It's probably part of it, yeah. I didn't even plan on telling him, I just heard myself saying it one night. Well, not just _any _night; it was this night when he told me how he felt about me. And I don't know what happened, it just like, came spilling out."

"That shows a lot of trust," Maura commented. "I'm sure he really appreciated your being so honest."

Jane chuckled again. "He did. I couldn't believe he was so nice about it, and he kept it a secret, like he promised."

Another long pause stretched between them. Maura knew the next part of the story, because Jane had confided most of it to her before.

_She got Katy Miller on her own. For weeks Jane had sworn that Katy looked at her differently from the other women, maybe like she was interested. There was a mutual respect there, and even after telling Booth her secret, Jane had worked harder and harder to repress the physical attraction she knew she was developing for Katy. Her deep blue eyes were like two s__mall works of art, never less beautiful when strands of lightly curled auburn hair fell into them. Every time Jane looked her way, Katy couldn't help but grin, her smile stretched by deep-set dimples. __There was undeniably some sort of charge that passed between them each time they interacted, and Jane was falling so deliriously in love with this girl that she was totally oblivious to the fact that anyone else had noticed. Plenty of people in their unit had picked up on something, but certainly weren't about to ask. Jane was too popular for her own good, and besides that, it'd be a huge loss to the army itself if they ever lost Rizzoli. _

_Katy and Jane finally had their chance one night when the two other women in their platoon were on active guard duty. They had the tent to themselves and were lying next to each other on their backs, staring up at the dirty canvas ceiling. Jane had just finished a story about a fort she'd built with her friends in sixth grade out in the woods, when Katy sat up slightly. _

_"Will you promise not to say anything?" she whispered into the darkness._

_"About what?" Jane asked, her heart hammering incessantly against her chest. Her eyes widened as Katy shifted slightly on top of her. "What're you doing?" she asked, her voice amounting to little more than a terrified squeak._

_"You tell me," Katy said back, her breath tickling Jane's cheek. "Tell me, Jane. Tell me what you want."_

_She couldn't think of a verbal response; she just grabbed Katy's head and pulled her down into a hungry, passionate kiss. Katy responded immediately, kissing her back as strongly as if it would mean winning the war. Her tongue swept into Jane's mouth, and Jane was sure her brain had just short-circuited. It couldn't be at all compared to kissing a guy; it was apples and oranges. No—apples and something not edible. The joke made her smile to herself, and Katy grinned against her lips, still tasting her. _

_"What's so funny?" she asked in a whisper, __moving her lips to Jane's cheek, then her ear. _

_Again, Jane responded with actions, not words. Besides, she'd already forgotten what had made her laugh. She rolled them over, pinning Katy underneath her, weaving their fingers together. But Katy was impatient; she threw her arms up around Jane's neck, pulling her impossibly closer, digging her nails into Jane's shoulders. They were careful to keep things as quiet as possible, aware of the potential danger of what they were doing, but in the moment, utterly believing that any retribution would be worth this ecstasy. Whenever Jane could feel a moan threatening to rumble out of Katy's throat, she would quickly stifle the sound with a hard kiss. _

_"God, Jane, you're so hot," Katy said in a feverish whisper. _

_There were of course many other things Katy admired about her, but nothing else had come to her at that moment. She was overwhelmed by the attention Jane was giving her—it was an exhilaration she could compare only with the rush that came with the excitement of war…_

_As the weeks went by, they were able to share a few more tortuously good make-out sessions before it happened. _

_Cadet Eric Michaels was widely reported to have been a homosexual, but no one had ever been able to get proof. He was said to have been abused physically and emotionally several times, and it had finally reached the point where he couldn't take it anymore. His death was ruled a suicide, with a note outing himself found by his hand. He had been in the same platoon as one of Booth's friends, and when Jane heard about it, she felt sick, sick enough to throw up. Suddenly she didn't want to be a part of this patriotic organization anymore. Suddenly she hated the army. It wasn't as though she had never heard of things like this happening, or that she didn't know what she'd gotten herself into—geez, for the last few months she had been carrying on a lesbian affair without anyone noticing. No one could notice, she had told herself, because otherwise it would mean going home. _

_Something about Eric's suicide pushed Jane over the edge. Two days after hearing the news, and without consulting Katy, Jane came out to her commanding officer. She would never forget the way he sat there, staring dumbly at her as if she'd just announced a desire to go establish a military post on Jupiter. He was squirming, trying to find a way out of having to let her go, but she did not meet his gaze and stared resolutely at the wall behind him, hands folded behind her back. _

_"You're sure, Rizzoli?" he asked quietly._

_"Yes, sir."_

_"There's…there aren't any men in this platoon who could deny what you've just told me?"_

_What did he think, she was making a joke? That someone had dared her to do this? "No, sir. What I've told you is the truth, and anyone who denies it is a liar." _

_"And you know what this means."_

_"Yes, sir." _

_She had hoped, like a fool, that this could have been like going to confession. It would be between her and this officer, and her parents would never find out. She hadn't ever planned on going this far, but she hadn't ever planned on meeting Katy, and that had changed everything…_

"Something you said last night really bothered me," Jane said all of a sudden.

Maura's hand stilled on the serving tray she had been drying. "What?"

Jane continued to scrub, fully aware that Maura was staring at her and equally determined not to return the gaze. "It didn't at the time, but then I thought about it more, and it… it hurt."

"Jane—?"

"You hinted that the only reason I'd asked Angela to do facial reconstruction was because she'd made a pass at me. You assumed that because she was pretty and she was into me, that I'd make any excuse to get her involved and get in her pants."

Maura put down the dish and grabbed Jane's shoulder. The detective didn't pull away, but she still wouldn't look at her friend. "Jane—no, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to say that at all—"

"That's who I _used _to be, Maura," Jane said, finally turning to look at her. "I used to be like that, I would've done that. After I was discharged, I—I couldn't take it. My mom was afraid of me, Booth was on the other side of the world, and Katy was furious with me. I felt like I had no one, no one at all. Not even my brothers could understand, and all my old friends just seemed so phony, so fake."

"Jane, it's not uncommon for soldiers to return from combat feeling—"

"You know that's not all I mean, Maura," Jane grumbled, and the expression on the doctor's face told Jane she did know this was true. "I did what any young, previously sexually frustrated person would do. I went to bars and picked up women and—it was just this never-ending series of one-night stands, because I hated them and I hated Katy and I hated myself and I hated the stupid army. I felt like I had to make good on what they'd kicked me out for, so I just went around like an _idiot_. It'd been just over a year when Booth finally wrote to me saying I was sounding less and less like my old self—'cause I'd been writing him, you know—and he kept telling me that Katy was asking about me all the time but I knew that wasn't true, because she hadn't ever written to me herself. Maura, Booth got me to grow up. I knew he'd never treat women the way I had, so I stopped because I respected him so much. I don't hook up anymore, not even close. I don't go all the way with someone unless I think it's something that's going to really _go _somewhere, which means yeah, goddammit, I haven't gotten laid in a really long time! So when you go around assuming I'd give more weight to what someone had to say just because she's attractive and came onto me, it hurts. It hurts that you don't know me well enough to know I would never do that."

Somewhere in the middle of that speech she had started crying, but she didn't care. Her voice had remained steady as the tears slid down her cheeks, some of them leaving a salty trail in her mouth, but she didn't pay them any mind. Not until now, when an ominous silence had filled the kitchen, and Maura was giving her a look full of concern and shame and sadness. She looked like she was about to say something, but Jane beat her to it.

"I'm sorry," Jane muttered, putting down the glass she'd been washing and wiping away tears with the back of her arm. She rested against the sink and folded her arms, screwing her eyes shut. "I don't know what the hell just got into me. I'm so exhausted, I—I don't know what I'm saying."

She opened her eyes only when Maura gently touched her arm. "Don't apologize, Jane," she said in a voice thick with emotion. _I only wish I could tell you I hadn't meant what I'd said,_ _but I still don't know why I said it_. "My words were stupid and unthinking, and I can understand why you may have taken them the wrong way, even if you seemed all right at the time."

"I was, I am," Jane said. "I dunno, it's just Booth being here, it's been so weird. Really great, but weird. It's brought up all these emotions I wasn't expecting." _I didn't think he'd ever meet you, at least not so soon after I told him I'm in love with you._

Maura grazed her fingers against Jane's arm. "Please," she whispered. "Come to my bed, you might be able to sleep."

"I don't want you to have to take the couch."

"I won't. It's a large bed, I'll stay with you."

Too tired to argue, Jane mumbled "all right," and allowed Maura to drag her into the bedroom. With a heavy sigh she collapsed onto the bed and marveled at how soft the pillow was, and how warm the comforter felt. Maura had stepped into the bathroom for only a minute or two, but when she came out, it was to see that Jane was already in a deep sleep. It occurred to her that in their few sporadic sleepovers, she had always been the one to doze off first. She'd never seen what Jane looked like when she was sleeping—utterly free from care, free from the world. Her brow was smooth, not creased from worry or stress. Her breathing was steady, her lips parted slightly. On the whole, she seemed uncharacteristically calm …at the outset, anyway.

At some point later, Jane had woken up from a horrible nightmare. They were the type she only ever had after thinking extensively about her military past—_she was back in a war zone, weaponless, alone. This time Katy had been in the dream, antagonizing her with sharp jeers that hurt more than bullets. Yet when an unseen enemy tossed a live grenade at them, Jane still threw herself on top of it to absorb the blast, yelling at Katy to run—but Katy was holding on to her, telling her to stop, to wake up—_

Maura was gently rubbing Jane's arm looking concerned. "Jane, it's okay."

"What happened?" Jane asked dumbly.

"You were…agitated."

The detective sat up. "Dammit, Maura, you must think I'm such a spaz," Jane groaned into her hands once she'd realized where she was, and that the war zone had been a dream. Before Maura could launch into a full description of what exactly spastic behavior consisted of, Jane muttered, "Bad dream." She was still trembling, fighting down the taste of bile that was creeping up her throat. "It felt so freaking real."

"You're okay, Jane, you're with me," Maura said quietly.

Jane looked at her, feeling so out of it and so confused because it finally registered with her that she was in Maura's bed. "Am I still dreaming?" she asked in a cracked whisper.

"No," Maura said back, slightly confused. "No, you're awake, which needs to change. Go back to sleep."

"I can't," Jane mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"Yes, you can," Maura said firmly. "You've been getting barely enough sleep these last couple of days, and it's going to start affecting your ability to work properly. If you go back to sleep now, you'll be able to get in a couple more hours." Maura gently pushed Jane's arm, guiding her to lie down again. Jane allowed it, lying on her back as Maura rested on her side. "You're not alone anymore, Jane."

Jane shut her eyes. "I know."

She was too tired to realize she had fallen back asleep with Maura's arm laid protectively near her waist. It stayed there for the next couple of hours, until Jane woke up and immediately shifted away, sitting up. This caused Maura to stir as well, and as she groggily stretched, Jane said, "Good morning, doctor."

Maura offered her a sleepy smile in return. "Good morning, Jane."

"Sorry for freaking out last night," Jane chuckled, trying her best to pretend that her behavior had been amusing and not embarrassing. "I guess I was worrying over nothing, right?"

"I can understand why you felt the way you did," Maura assured her. "You have nothing to feel uncomfortable about, Jane. I'm just glad you were finally able to get to sleep after such an… exhausting evening."

Jane snorted. "Yeah. Thanks for letting me…" _Talk? Vent? Yell at you? _

"My pleasure. You can come sleep with me any time."

Barely suppressing a chuckle, Jane said, "Right, thanks." From anyone else in the world, she would have expected that to definitely mean "let's have sex any time," but she knew that coming from Dr. Literal, it only meant that in the future she should feel free to share the bed instead of taking the couch. Still, the thought of how close they had been last night—physically and emotionally—sent a chill down Jane's spine that she had to fight to ignore as she quickly patted Maura's knee and stood up. "I'm gonna grab something to eat. Want anything?"

"Wait—let me get dressed, and I'll come with you."

"Okay." Jane walked open to the door, which she realized was partially open, and nudged it further open with her foot. By habit she closed it behind her, only to realize that Tommy was standing a few feet away with his mouth hanging open. "_Tommy_!" she hissed. "What're you doing in here?"

"Getting coffee," he answered. He waved his hand at Maura's closed bedroom door. "What the hell was that?"

"Was what?"

"Did you spend the night in there?"

"Yes! …oh." Jane did a quick internal replay of her conversation with Maura and it dawned on her how easy it could have been to misconstrue. "Look, Tommy—"

"You said you weren't into her!"

"Would you lower your voice? And—"

"No! Jane, that's really not cool!"

She couldn't believe this. He was acting like a twelve-year-old, and one she wanted to hasten to remind had no claim on Maura Isles. Who was he to be upset with her over this? He had no right. So to hell with him and what he was going to make of this: "Yeah, Tommy, I slept with Maura last night. Tell anyone, and I swear to God I'll kill you, though."

"Why?"

"We don't want to spring it on people yet." Just then, Maura emerged from her room, dressed in a silver pencil skirt and ruffled mustard top. She was about to greet Tommy when Jane suddenly turned and gave her an awkward hug. "Maura! Honey, you're here, that's great! I hope you don't mind I told Tommy that you invited me to spend the night with you."

Maura shrugged. "Not if you don't."

Tommy just stared wordlessly at them both before shaking his head and walking outside.

"What was that about?" Maura asked, puzzled.

"Ah, nothin'," Jane chuckled. "I just rubbed his self-righteousness the wrong way." _He'll figure it out soon enough, anyway_. _Just a laugh_. "Let's get going—I told Booth we'd meet him at H.Q. at 8:00, and we need to stop by my apartment so I can change into something I haven't slept in."

Eventually they were both properly dressed and fed, and arrived at headquarters a few minutes before Booth and Brennan. Booth was not particularly pleased to notice that Brennan was turning quite a few heads, but kept his annoyance to a minimum by send menacing glares at those who dared make eye contact with him. Once they met up with Jane, she directed Brennan down to the morgue to help Maura with the dislocated finger they'd found at the crime scene. As she left with Booth, Jane asked Frost if he'd show Brennan where to go.

"So did you ever manage to get your doctor in bed last night?" Jane teased Booth as they got into her squad car.

"Ha. No. We've got twin beds."

"Hm, hm. Guess I win."

"What? Did you…?"

"Yup. I slept with Maura last night."

Booth's face fell into an open-mouthed grin. "Wow! Way to go, Rizzoli!"

Pulling onto the street, Jane said, "Okay, I should elaborate. We just slept. But it was weird, like, I… I usually take the couch when I spend the night over there, but I was having trouble sleeping, and Maura came out of her bedroom and kind of insisted that I share her bed."

"Wow. You think maybe she wanted something to happen?"

"No, I mean she was just being Maura. But… well, actually, I… no. It's all just wishful thinking, Booth, I mean she's straight."

"But…?"

Jane spared him a pained smile. "I'm grasping at straws, really. There was something in her voice, and the way she was touching me that made me think for a second that …I dunno. I was tired, so I'm sure it was all in my head."

Booth eyed her warily. "Sure, Jane."

After a few moments of silence, Jane had to laugh. "Look at us, Booth! You were hung up on me and I turned out to be gay, and now I'm hung up on this woman who's straight. Aren't we a pair."

"Yeah, but I got over you pretty quick," Booth said casually.

"Oh, come on. You moped for months. Years!"

"A decade!"

"Okay, that's just sad."

It was Booth's turn to laugh. "Look, have you dated anyone recently? I mean sometimes the best way to get over someone, even if it's just a—I dunno, a crush—is to get out in the field again, you know?"

Jane shrugged. "There hasn't been anyone in a while. You know how it is, Booth, women freak out about the job. It's too much."

"Yeah, I know," Booth muttered. "That's what's so great about Bones. She knows the risks, and she'd be fine with them if she'd just… give it a chance. Although I guess the same goes for you and Maura…"

"Right," Jane said crisply, pulling into Eden Carlisle's driveway. "Okay, well before we talk more about my gay dating life, let's go speak with our Mormon suspect."

"Wait, wait," Booth said with a grin before Jane got out. "You know who else knows the risks of dating someone in our line of work?"

Jane stared at him, then slowly grinned. "That girl Angela?"

"Right on, Rizzoli. One phone call and she'd take a sick day to come down here in a heartbeat."

"No, come on, Booth! Be professional." They got out of the car in unison, and walking up the long driveway to the very palatial estate, Jane said, "Fine. Let's talk after we've spoken with Ms. Carlisle."


	7. Your Competition

**A/N**: Thanks for the reviews, guys! They are the best motivation to keep writing.

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><p>Jane's lip curled as she banged a heavy, bronze knocker against a huge, oak door. The Carlisles was obviously dripping in money and wasn't afraid of showing it, but she knew she had an obligation to try and suppress her personal feelings to keep them from biasing her. A dog started barking from somewhere in the house, which admittedly warmed Jane to the family just a tad.<p>

A small, Asian girl swung the door wide open. "Hi!" she chirped.

"Uh, hello," Jane said. "Does Eden Carlisle live here?"

"Yeah, that's my big sister! She's awesome!"

"That's great," Booth said with a smile. "Would you mind telling her there's some people here who'd like to see her?"

"I'm not allowed to bring strangers in the house," the girl said flatly. Something seemed to occur to her, like maybe she remembered she wasn't supposed to _talk _to strangers, either. "Hold on, I'll get my mom." Leaving the door open, she went running down a long hallway into what Jane assumed was the kitchen. "Mom! There's some pretty people here to see Eden!"

Booth and Jane exchanged an awkward grin as they heard Mrs. Carlisle respond. "Pretty people, huh? Bit early for solicitors, isn't it?" She walked into view, wiping her hands off with a dish rag. Mrs. Carlisle looked to be in her late forties or early fifties, with chestnut brown hair that fell straight past her shoulders. Her smile faltered as she got closer to the door and noticed that these pretty people were extremely professional looking. "How can I help you?" she asked uncertainly.

"Alyssa Carlisle?"

"Yes, sir."

"FBI Agent Booth, and this is Detective Jane Rizzoli," said Booth, as he and Jane both flashed their badges. "We need to speak with your daughter Eden."

Alyssa's green eyes widened. "What's happened?"

Jane nodded down at the morning paper that was lying on the doorstep. "Read today's headline and you'll get an idea. Is Eden home? We just need to ask her some questions."

Alyssa stepped back, allowing Jane and Booth inside and closing the door after them. She looked very shaken, and put hand to her heart. "Yes, um, she just got back from a morning run. Let me go get her—please, take a seat in the family room." With a gesture to a large room off to the left, she headed up the stairs. It sounded like there were several children in the kitchen, and Jane was silently grateful that in this room, they were represented only in photographs. There was a huge family portrait super-imposed on a canvas that hung over an L-shaped green couch, and Jane and Booth gravitated automatically towards it. Booth whistled: there were no less than nine children gathered around (the very white) Mr. and Mrs. Carlisle, three of whom appeared Chinese and the youngest was black. Booth was quietly impressed that so many children had been adopted, but Jane was busy searching for which might be Eden. The two oldest kids were girls, one a redhead and one a dirty blonde, and both looked college-aged.

"Bet you a beer Eden's the ginger," Jane whispered.

"You're on."

A moment later, Jane inwardly cursed her bad luck as the dirty blonde walked into the room, her long hair pulled into a scraggly ponytail. Though her sweats-clad body was clearly exhausted, her very round, green eyes looked alert and worried. Eden closed the door behind her, effectively shutting out the sound of her many siblings eating breakfast.

"Go ahead and take a seat, Ms. Carlisle," Jane said, always feeling awkward when she had to ask someone to sit down in her own home.

Eden silently obeyed, and waited for Booth and Jane to sit at the couch across from her before she finally spoke in a dry voice: "What is this about?"

"Eden, my name's Jane Rizzoli, and this is Agent Seeley Booth," Jane said, offering up her badge again. "I work for Boston homicide and I need to know about your relationship with Alicia Howard."

"A.J.?" Eden asked. "Why, what's happened?"

"I'm profoundly sorry to say it, but she was found dead two days ago," Jane said, hating how routine her words sounded. She hated them even more when she saw Eden's mouth drop slightly and her eyes immediately sheen over with tears. Gulping, Jane continued: "Normally the Boston P.D. would handle this ourselves, but since we're dealing with a Senator's daughter, we've brought in the FBI, and that's what Agent Booth is doing here. At this moment in time, we're not one hundred percent positive that Alicia was murdered, but it's customary for us to look into all unintended deaths."

It looked like Eden was trying to say something, but even from a few feet away, Jane and Booth could see that she was trembling hard. She hunched over slightly and clasped her hands in front of her, trying to get a hold of herself. "A.J… no… I can't believe it, I can't…"

"We understand you were her roommate, so we know this must be very difficult for you," Booth said gently, as tears began to slide silently down Eden's cheeks. "But if you can talk to us, you might be of great help."

Eden screwed her eyes shut tightly together, then nodded. "Of course," she said in a hoarse voice. "Of course, I'll do everything I can."

"How did you meet Alicia?" Jane asked.

"The summer before our senior year in high school," Eden said. "We both got internships at the Children's Museum in Easton—"

"Sorry, which year was that, then?" Booth cut in.

"Uh—the summer of… 2009," Eden stammered. "We hit it off right away, we just had an instant connection over lots of things—we both loved kids, obviously, and uh, stuff like random movies and books, and then of course we were both really, you know, devout…"

"Right," Jane said. "Your family is Mormon, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

As an automatic response, Jane bristled at the term. "No need to call me ma'am, Eden. 'Detective' will do." Without giving her time to respond, Jane pulled a small Ziploc bag from her blazer pocket and showed it to Eden. Inside was the miniature copy of the _Book of Mormon_ they'd pulled out of Alicia's jacket. "We found this on Alicia. It's from you."

Eden let out a small sob. "Yes," she whimpered. "I gave that to her at the end of the internship."

"You said that was a summer internship," Jane pointed out. "Your message on the inside of this book had something to do with Christmas."

With a shaky little laugh, Eden explained, "Yeah. We kept in touch after the summer, and I sent her that book with a card. When we saw each other in December—she was here visiting her aunt and uncle—she asked me to write something on the actual inside of the book, to make it more personal."

"Did you convert Alicia?" Booth asked.

"In a way, I guess. She applied to BYU with me."

"BU?" Jane asked.

"BYU, Brigham Young University," Eden clarified. "In Utah. We lived together our freshman year, and she decided to be baptized into our church."

"How did her family feel about that?" Booth inquired.

Eden shook her head. "Well sir, they weren't pleased, especially not at first. Senator Howard was very upset, but they came around eventually. A.J. explained things a little bit more to them, and told them our beliefs, and they're mostly glad she still believes in Christ. They've always been very kind to me."

"So, school in Utah," Jane said, deciding not to mention that these kind people had been the ones to implicate Eden's possible hand in Alicia's death. "Are you just home for the Thanksgiving break?"

With a deep sigh, Eden cast her gaze to the floor. "No ma'am, I've been working at home since September. I couldn't afford this term."

"Couldn't afford it?" Jane asked, raising her eyebrows, thinking anyone who owned this house could probably actually pay for four years of college for nine children.

"I know," Eden said with a small smile. "My parents had to pay their own way through school, so I see no reason why I shouldn't have to do the same thing. They offered to help me cover this semester, so long as I paid them back later, but there were other things going on."

"Something to do with your ex-fiancé?" Jane pushed her.

If Eden was surprised that Jane knew about this, she hid it well. "That's part of it," she said. "It was an unpleasant surprise, I admit, and… it took a very hard toll."

"If you don't mind my asking, did… did your break-up have anything to do with Alicia?" Jane pressed.

This was clearly the question Eden was most hesitant to answer. After a long awkward pause, she finally said, "Alicia …convinced me to break it off."

"Why?"

"Uh…she found out some things about him. Things he'd kept from me."

"Was he doing anything illegal?"

"No, ma'am. Detective, sorry. No, nothing _illegal_. Just nothing becoming of someone raised to know he was a son of God."

Booth and Jane glanced at each other, but decided not to push any further. "Could you give us his name and address, please, if he lives in the area?" Booth asked.

"Oh, sir, I know he was upset but he would never have _killed _anyone."

"We need to cover our bases," Booth explained, pointedly taking out a pen and poising it over a pad of paper.

She nodded meekly. "Yes sir, I understand. Brock Anderson." She relayed his address, continuing to wipe futilely at her tears.

"All right," Jane said quietly. "I hate to have to ask you this, Eden, but we need to know where you were three nights ago."

It was apparent she had been expecting this question, but was still unprepared for how it would make her feel. Eden pressed a fist against her forehead, trying to remember. "I was out. Alone. I know," she said, sparing both of them a glance. "It doesn't look good, but I was taking a walk, a very long one."

"No alibis at all?" Jane asked. Her voice was not accusatory, but kindly, in a way. She already liked this kid.

Eden shrugged. "No, m—detective." She clenched her jaw and inhaled sharply. "I'm not afraid of admitting that. I know my innocence, and have faith that you will ultimately find the proof of it."

Silently impressed by Eden's calm certainty, Booth asked, "Can you think of anyone who might've wanted to harm Alicia?"

Brushing away more tears, Eden shook her head again. "She was so beloved by everyone," she whispered. "At school and here, at home—sometimes she stayed in our guest room over breaks, because a lot of her family lives here and a lot of her friends. She'd come to church with us, and everyone there loved her, too." Eden began to cry anew. "I'm sorry—I'm sorry, I can't think right now, I just…"

"It's okay," Booth said, as Eden took a shuddering breath to try and collect herself. "We understand."

With a loud sniff, Eden reached towards a table behind her and picked up a picture frame. The photo was of her and Alicia in a college dorm room, flanked by Eden's parents. "She was like a member of our family."

Jane smiled at the sentiment, then stood up, prompting Booth to do the same. She held her card out to Eden: "You give us a call if you can think of anything else, all right?"

Eden took the card and nodded. "I will. And I'll pray for you both."

"Uh…sure, if you think that'll help," Jane said.

"I do, ma'am—um, detective." Curious, Jane furrowed her brow and bit the inside of her cheek. She had to bite back a rather rude comment—_what makes you think God will step in to help now if he didn't step in to stop Alicia from getting killed? _To her surprise, Eden looked up at her then, and as if she'd been able to read Jane's mind, said, "I believe very much in a merciful God, detective, but I also believe very strongly in the devil. He holds just as much sway over human beings as does the Lord, and as much good as there is in the world, there are always people who are going to let the devil influence their decisions, whether they give it a name or not."

"Right," Jane said slowly. "Well… thank you for your time, Eden. We'll be in touch with you." They bid farewell to Mrs. Carlisle, who had been standing anxiously outside the door of the family room, then hastily made their exit. As they drove back to headquarters, Jane said, "Wow. Okay. Thoughts?"

Booth shook his head. "Call me crazy, but I'm pretty sure she's innocent."

"I know what you mean. But …I dunno, wasn't she a little… odd?"

"What? Odd? What do you mean?"

"Okay, maybe odd's the wrong word, because I liked her in a way. But the kid's only twenty and she's like, a _saint_. Easily the daughter of millionaires, and she's paying her own way through school? And she kept calling us sir and ma'am. And after a while, it stopped sounding weird. _That _felt weird to me. But in terms of the actual case…" Jane sighed. "I know we don't have much to go on yet, but yeah, I don't get a murderous vibe from her."

"Those are the ones you've got to watch out for sometimes, though," Booth admitted. "Didn't seem like she had a motive, but I guess we'll see what we can uncover. I'd feel a lot better if she had an alibi."

"What's the deal with her old fiancé, do you think?" Jane asked. "Like, what did she mean when she said he hadn't done anything illegal, he just hadn't, what, acted like a true son of God, or whatever?"

"Probably that he'd committed some kind of really serious sin and hadn't told her about it. So something not illegal, but serious enough to cause Eden to want to break off the engagement."

"Well, Maura _did _say that Mormons consider sexual activity outside of marriage to be like, a _huge _deal, right? Maybe he did something …with Alicia?"

Booth shrugged. "Or with someone else, and Alicia found out about it, and told her best friend? Maybe this boy wanted to marry into a rich family, and was really pissed when Alicia tattled on him and Eden called it off." He sighed heavily. "We've got a lot more investigating to do, Rizzoli."

She solemnly agreed, and a few minutes later, they were back at H.Q. Jane asked Frost to do a background check on both Eden and Brock Anderson, then headed down to the morgue with Booth to see how their doctors were doing. Brennan and Maura were huddled in front of a computer, looking serious.

"Break in the case?" Jane asked, cuing both women to look up at her.

"Dr. Isles was just introducing me to Gilt!" Brennan said.

"You're not familiar with the concept of guilt?" Booth asked. "Hm. You know, actually, that doesn't surprise me."

"It's an online group that provides instant access to designer labels at really great prices," Maura explained, looking giddy. "Dr. Brennan had mentioned she hadn't had time lately to go shopping for new evening attire, and so I've been helping her set up an account on—"

Jane broke in, waving her hand impatiently. "Maura, you're supposed to be working right now."

"I know, we were," Maura said lightly. "We just got distracted. Dr. Brennan, do you remember how we wound up here?"

"I'm afraid I don't. I suppose one might say we're _Gilt-y_ of slacking off!"

Maura and Brennan laughed uproariously together at the pun, while Jane merely raised her eyebrows at Booth. "Really? I can't believe your doctor is as terrible at making jokes as mine is."

"Actually, detective, it was quite a clever play on words," Brennan said, suddenly serious again. "Anyway, we have some news for you. We were planning to have the disembodied finger shipped back to my lab at the Jeffersonian for Dr. Hodgins to examine. There was still quite a bit of sediment left on the intermediate phalange that we hope might give us a reference point for where the finger might have come from, as well as an arthropod neither Dr. Isles nor I could definitively identify. As Dr. Hodgins is, I believe, the top forensic entomologist in the country, he would be the ideal person to help us investigate further."

"Right, so…you were _planning_ to do that?" Booth asked. "Is it not still a plan?"

"In a way, yes," Brennan said. "When we contacted Dr. Hodgins, he was already en route to Boston with Angela."

"What?" Booth and Jane asked simultaneously. They turned swiftly to each other. "Jinx. Jinx! Jinx, jinx, jinx—"

Brennan furrowed her brow as Booth and Jane continued to giggle and shout "jinx!" at each other. "Dr. Isles, do…you comprehend this situation?"

"Anthropology is supposed to be _your _field of study, Dr. Brennan."

"Yes, but I've noticed that you seem much more acquainted with certain social mores and rituals than I am."

Waving a hand, Booth said, "Guys, look, don't worry about it. Just—what are Hodgins and Angela doing, just up and leaving for Boston?"

"Angela's father is playing here with his band," Brennan answered. "Apparently she hasn't been to one of his concerts in quite a while, and since it coincides with a case near us, she decided to come down to support both her father and us. I thought it was a bit of an overly sentimental gesture, but Angela tends to be overly sentimental, so, it's not all that surprising."

Booth shot a smirk at Jane. "I don't think it's me and Bones she wants to see…"

"Knock it off, Booth," Jane said, though smiling lightly. "Is Dr. Hodgins coming along for moral support as well?"

"That's what he claimed, although judging by his past behavior, I feel comfortable hypothesizing that he may be hoping it will increase the possibility of a sexual encounter with Angela," Brennan stated.

Frost walked in just then, and sparing a raised eyebrow for Brennan, walked straight for Booth and Jane. "Eden Carlisle and Brock Anderson are both clean. If you still wanted to talk to Brock, though, he won't be back in Boston until tomorrow."

"Why, where is he?" Jane asked shortly.

Barely containing a snigger, Frost said, "Well apparently, he's a roadie for ZZ Top, and they're in Greenwich right now. They're playing a show here tomorrow night."

"ZZ Top?" Brennan asked. "That's Angela's father's band!"

"Wait, are you serious?" Jane cried. "Angela's dad is in _ZZ Top?_"

"Yes, are you familiar with them?"

Jane let out a laugh of disbelief. "Familiar with them? My uncle used to be their biggest fan, I swear—my brothers and I grew up listening to their records! Frankie used to say that as soon as he could grow facial hair, he wanted a beard like Billy Gibbons'."

"I'm not sure that would be a particularly flattering look for him," Maura remarked.

"Billy is actually Angela's father," Brennan said.

"What! Oh, my God!" Jane laughed and slapped Booth's shoulder. "We are so going to that concert! Wow. Wow! What are the freaking odds that this kid would be working for a famous old band whose lead singer is the father of your co-worker, and that the timing of their show would work out so well?"

Booth just chuckled, but both Maura and Brennan seriously considered the question for a moment before the latter ultimately said, "To my extensive knowledge, there is no pre-existing empirical evidence to provide specific statistics to answer your question, Detective Rizzoli. But I feel fairly confident in asserting that the odds would be quite slim."

"Right," Jane said with a grin. "Thanks for the back-up on that one, Dr. Brennan. Now do you two have anything else that's pertinent to the case to tell us about?"

"Well, we've been able to ascertain that there was no struggle involved," Maura said. "So either Alicia had no chance to fight off her attacker, or her death was a suicide."

This sobered Jane right up. "I don't think it was a suicide. Alicia wouldn't do that, I really don't think she would."

"Regardless of your personal opinion, Jane, it's still an avenue we need to consider," Maura pointed out.

"The hell it is—you and Dr. Brennan, you're coming with me and Booth to check out the apartment Alicia fell from. Right now."

"Excellent! Let's go!" Brennan said, following Maura's lead out of the room.

Both tugged on Jane's elbow, indicating for her to stay back. "One thing before we go, Rizzoli."

"What's up?"

He glanced at Maura and Brennan, who were chuckling together by the elevator. "Did you happen to notice the look on Maura's face when Bones was talking about Angela?"

"No. Why would I?"

"She looked …displeased."

Jane could see where this was going. "It's professional jealousy, Booth. She's still ticked that Angela's facial reconstruction got us an I.D. before her science. She's not like, you know…" Unable to come up with a suitable way to end that sentence, Jane just waved her hand indiscriminately and headed down the hallway.

"Okay," Booth said lightly. "Whatever you say, Jane."

Back at the crime scene, Jane was terribly distracted, much more so than she'd like to admit. The thought that Maura might be jealous of Angela was extremely appealing, but Jane didn't want to linger on anything she considered to be pure fantasy. Maura had never shown any interest, so why would she now? The notion was totally ridiculous; it _had _to be professional jealousy. Still… Jane bit her lip as she watched Maura and Brennan crouch down together near the door, and she wondered …was there a chance Booth might be on to something? Maura had invited her to bed last night, and had gotten a little ridiculously tense at the mention of Angela making a pass at Jane…

"—I mean right, Jane?"

Booth's voice startled her out of her reverie. "Sorry, what?"

He nodded down at Maura, who said, "There's a slight discoloration on the carpet here, and the faintest smell of bleach. I would hypothesize that someone is trying to hide blood, but we should get some techs up here to confirm."

"Right, good idea," Jane muttered.

"Sheesh," Booth said, looking around the dingy, cluttered apartment. It didn't seem to have been lived in for a while, even if the inhabitant was just an extremely dirty person. The bed was unmade and filthy, and the floor was littered with seemingly random objects, from books to picture frames to candles. Raising an eyebrow at a particularly melted, odd-colored lump of wax, Jane said, "What the hell was Senator's daughter doing in a place like this?"

"Our job to find out," Jane sighed, clapping him on the back.

Under thirty minutes later, they were able to confirm that someone had indeed tried to cover up a startling amount of blood on and by the door. The four of them spent the next couple of hours combing over the apartment for more blood, possible murder weapons, and information of any kind that might tell them about Edmund North, the man to whom the apartment was leased—allegedly: Frost and Korsak had tried looking up any kind of information on the man, but there was none to be found.

"I'm thinking Edmund North might not actually exist," Jane snorted.

"Wait, Edmund North?" Maura asked.

"Yes…"

"If I'm not mistaken, that's a pseudonym that was undertaken by Dalton Trumbo in the 1960s," she went on. "He was blacklisted by the HUAC, and had to submit his screenplays under false names, until Kirk Douglas was kind enough to—"

Jane held up a hand. "Please, Dr. Isles, let's have a Hollywood history lesson another time. I'm callin' it, guys, let's get back to H.Q. I'll talk to the landlady and ask her to get in contact with us the second this North guy comes in."

Once that was finished, Brennan and Maura spent an oddly long amount of time arguing lightly about which of them owned the better Toyota model. "Seriously, guys," Jane groaned. "Are you like, getting _paid _by Toyota to talk up their cars? Because I'm not getting one." This did nothing but send the doctors into a long explanation of how Toyota was superior to every other car company in the world, and the discourse did not end until Jane had literally shoved them back into the morgue and closed the door.

"Well, I think that was quite uncalled for," Brennan said.

"Oh, don't let her get to you," Maura said with a smile. "That's just Jane."

They spent the next while trying to analyze whether Alicia had been killed in the apartment or by the fall from its window. Brennan remarked that this job would be much easier if Angela was around to help, and shortly thereafter actually received a text from said artist announcing her and Hodgins' arrival in the area. She alerted Booth to this news, who suggested he and Jane meet up with them at the Dirty Robber.

And that they did. Sitting at the bar, Jane had to genuinely smile when she saw Angela walk in. _Wow. She's even prettier than I remembered._ She shook her and Hodgins' hands and chatted as they waited for their brainy doctor friends to arrive. After a few minutes, Jane excused herself to use the restroom and in her absence, Angela spotted Brennan outside walking with an unbelievably gorgeous woman.

"Booth," Angela said slowly.

"Yup," he said with a smile. "That is your competition!"

Angela sighed heavily as the women walked into the bar. "Crap."


	8. Dirty Robber

**A/N**: This is what I was working on before the Rizzoli and Isles finale destroyed my life for a second. I couldn't keep writing something so upbeat when I was so depressed! Anyway thank you for all the support. This is hard for me to write because I do find myself struggling to write for them in character, and keep them distinctive enough from each other (Brennan from Isles, Booth from Jane). So really, thanks so much for the uplifting reviews!

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><p>Jane emerged from the Dirty Robber's bathroom to see Maura animatedly chatting with Angela. She tried to suppress a grin and shot a look at Booth, who merely groaned, "They're talking art stuff. Please shoot me."<p>

"Jane! You didn't tell me your partner was Constance Isles' daughter!" Angela laughed.

"Well you didn't tell me your dad was the front man of ZZ Top!" countered Jane.

"Ah, you got me there," Angela conceded with a chuckle. "But come on, Constance Isles? That is so much cooler. I mean, oh my gosh. When I was twenty-one, my roommates and I took this massive road trip to see an exhibit of hers in Philadelphia. I think we went through it about eight times; it was so inspiring! I've always wished I had the talent to really express myself through more modern techniques."

Jane gave her a crooked smile. "Hey, don't dis yourself on that front. Constance is a nice lady and all, but her art drives me up the wall."

"What? I'm telling her you said that," Maura said, feigning annoyance and lightly slapping Jane's shoulder.

"Whatever, you know she'll love me forever for re-introducing her to the magic of milkshakes," Jane teased back before ordering a beer. "Angela, you're dry. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Oh, that's—"

"I'm gonna guess…Cabernet," Jane said, nodding her head at the bartender.

Angela's hesitant grin grew wider, and Jane was reminded of the ostensible fact that half-Asians are objectively the most attractive people on earth. She was about to ask where Angela's mother was from when the artist nudged Maura. "You know, you really look a lot like your mom!"

Maura laughed lightly. "I get that quite a bit, which is a tad strange because she's not actually my biological mother."

"Oh! Really?" Angela said, showing no sign of embarrassment.

Brennan, who had been half-listening to Booth and Hodgins' reminiscences of the times they had been dragged to art museums by various family members, turned suddenly to look at Maura. "Dr. Isles, I have to say I'm starting to get a bit surprised by the amount of things we share in common—I myself was a foster child. Have you ever met your biological parents?"

Shooting a glance at Jane, Maura said, "My father, yes."

"Same with me. Does yours have criminal tendencies?"

"Excuse me?"

"_My_ father is an ex-convict. I was just thinking how amusing it would be if our similarities ran that closely!"

"Yeah, Bones, criminal fathers are really something to laugh about," Booth stuck in, failing to notice Jane putting a consoling hand on Maura's shoulder. "Can we please change the subject to something a little more pleasant? Like the murder?"

Angela sighed heavily. "Yes. A much better conversation topic, Booth."

"Let's not talk shop right now," Jane begged. "Please?"

"Really, Booth," Hodgins said, hopping onto the stool next to Maura that Brennan had just vacated. "We had Jane up in D.C., but we haven't yet had the pleasure of getting to know the Boston version of Dr. Brennan." (Had Brennan not been en route to the bathroom at that moment and thus out of earshot, she would likely have taken Hodgins to task for this analogy).

Maura smiled and said, "Well, Dr—Hodgins, was it?"

"Sure, just call me Hodgins. Or Jack. Whichever!"

"Right—Hodgins. What about me would you like to know?"

"Are you from Boston?"

Jane let out a laugh at that. "Couldn't be farther off there, Hodgins. Miss Maura Isles, a Bostonian? Why, she was educated at the finest academies all over Europe—"

"—before coming to BCU for college," Maura cut in.

"Well, of course the daughter of Dr. Isles would've been raised in Europe," Angela chuckled. "Do you ever miss it?"

With a furtive glance at Jane, Maura took a sip of her drink and answered, "Now and then, yes, I do. The museums and the mere history there are both peerless and priceless, but I do get to visit occasionally and that's enough for me. My work is here, and my family is here." She reached out and gently touched Jane's arm, not realizing that by so doing, she nearly caused Jane to choke on her beer. Fortunately she was able to keep it together, limiting herself to grinning back at Maura.

Hodgins looked from one to the other. "You have family here?"

"Well, not literal family," Maura said. "But the Rizzoli's have always treated me like an adopted member of theirs! So I never feel alone."

"Aw, how sweet!" Angela said with a smile.

Jane shrugged. "Ah, well. We figured it was about time we got someone classy and intelligent in the family, so it was only a matter of time before Maura became an honorary Rizzoli."

"Oh Jane, stop putting yourself down. You're _very _intelligent," Maura said.

"You'll notice she didn't fight me on the whole classy thing," Jane said to the rest of them, garnering some appreciative laughter.

Giving Jane's arm a light slap, Maura said, "That's only because the definition of class so widely depends on who exactly you're speaking with. While one person might say, objectively, that class requires a certain amount of wealth, education, or appearance, I would have to argue strenuously with anyone who said you lacked class."

"It was certainly classy of you not to take advantage of me when I was slobbering drunk and threw myself at you," Angela pointed out.

"See?" Maura chirped.

Clearly uncomfortable, Jane shrugged again. "That's very kind of you all, but—"

"Are you turning red, Jane?" Hodgins laughed.

"We used to have a game in our unit to see who could make Jane blush the fastest with the least amount of effort," Booth said, earning himself a hard if good-humored shove to the shoulder. "No really, it's easy. She'd get redder in the face than that ginger kid we had for a while—no easy feat."

"Poor Ryan," Jane sighed.

"I've discovered that there are a quite a few qualities unfairly and rudely attributed to redheads," Maura said, "but they _are _prone to more visible blushing due to the lower concentration of melanin in their skin."

"Wow," Hodgins said. "I think we need a Trivial Pursuit face-off between you and Dr. Brennan!"

Angela scoffed. "No way, Brennan would lose hard in the pop culture questions."

"Then maybe we should team up," Jane suggested. "FBI vs. BPD. You know, after this whole, uh, murder thing blows over."

Brennan came back just then, and Booth said, "Geez, Bones, you have trouble in there?"

"Pardon?"

"You were gone for a while."

"Oh. No offense Detective Rizzoli, but the Dirty Robber has an unsurprisingly filthy bathroom," Brennan said, badgering Hodgins off her seat.

As she went on discussing the meticulous methods she had used to ensure as clean a bathroom encounter as possible (with Jane and Maura being her most attentive listeners), Angela motioned for Booth to come over. Under her breath, she said, "Level with me, Seeley. Are you _sure _those two aren't together?"

"Who, Jane and Maura?" He barely suppressed a grin when Angela nodded slowly. "Nope, they're not."

"Bull," Angela chuckled. "Have you been watching them, or listening to them?"

Booth put his hands up lightly. "Hey, I'm just telling you what Jane told me. Maura's straight."

Angela raised one eyebrow, and both Booth and Hodgins recognized it as her _I'm-going-to-take-this-as-a-personal-challenge_ face. "Oh, I'm skeptical about that."

Despite himself, Hodgins said, "So. Ange. Which one do think is hotter?"

"Ooh, I don't know. They're both pretty hot."

Their objectification of women was interrupted when the bartender came over and looking at Booth, said, "Hey pal. Do you think you could ask your friend to stop talking about bowel movements? She's scaring people away from the bar."

Booth sighed and walked over to Brennan, interrupting her with a "Bones! You're making people sick, please stop."

"What? Our topic of discussion is perfectly normal." Facing Jane and Maura, she asked, "Were either of _you _disturbed?"

Maura was quick to reply, "Oh no, I was quite fascinated!"

"I'm sorry; I was watching the game behind your head," Jane apologized, nodding at the television behind Brennan.

"Atta lesbian!" Booth laughed, high-fiving Jane.

"Booth, don't jump to such crass conclusions," Brennan chastised him. "Not every lesbian has a proclivity for sports. That's just a stereotype."

"Yeah, but she likes sports," Booth said.

"It was just a joke, Dr. Brennan, I'm not offended," Jane said. "But to be fair, you do have a point. A couple years back I had a girlfriend who _loathed_ sports. We probably would've broken up sooner, but the sex was _so_ damn good." An admission she most likely would not have been so quick to share without alcohol's loosening-up influence.

"What do you look for in a woman, Jane?" Angela asked. The way she put it, she was able to make the question sound matter-of-fact and merely curious, not desperate, which Maura silently filed away as rather impressive.

Jane considered the question before responding, taking a long draw of beer and eying Angela closely. "Let's see. I was sort of kidding about the sports thing—I mean it's definitely a plus if she enjoys watching them with me, but it's not a necessity. My ideal woman is smart, and she can take a joke. She'll make me a better person; she'll …call me out for my faults, but be able to love me in spite of them." It sounded as if she were done here, but then as a last-minute add-on, she threw in, "And I'd be lying if I didn't say I admire objective class in a woman. I think a person should aim to be with someone who's better than her, and I admit that—especially in the past—I was pretty self-conscious about my family's lack of it. Of class. So I can't help appreciating it when I see it in other women."

_She just described me_, Maura thought, her heart racing. Angela's heart was also racing, as was her imagination.

A meditative silence had followed Jane's words, and when nobody said anything to break it, Jane took it upon herself to do so, and deflect. "Why, Angela, what do you? Or are you the type who only finds herself attracted to women while inebriated?"

The question was honest, not an accusation, so Angela didn't hesitate to reply: "Oh, honey, I find women and men attractive any time of the day in any state of mind."

"Do you look for the same qualities regardless of gender?"

Angela bit her cheek, knowing the cliché response to this question and wondering how much it'd be worth it to subvert Jane's expectations. "Not necessarily, if I may be frank. I prefer men who are gentler and softer; a little goofy. Being smart definitely helps, too. But I totally like being on equal footing with them, whereas with women…" She crossed her legs. "Okay. I hate when men are dicks about, well, the size of their dicks, but I have to say I'm really attracted to women who act like they have a big penis."

Booth choked on his beer, nearly spitting onto Maura, who curiously asked, "You mean women who like wearing large, phallic objects?" And Booth choked again.

"Nah, she's talking about swagger," Jane said with a smirk, cuing a simultaneous "I don't know what that means" from Maura and Brennan.

"It's the way she carries herself," Angela explained. "Confident. Sexy. Badass."

"So just to clarify," Hodgins said, "You like confident women, but guys have to be self-deprecating?"

Angela shrugged. "More or less."

"Well this has been a fine discussion on romantic love, but romance is at best indefinable and flighty," Brennan stated. "All either of you have done is shown how you've bought into society's pressure to romanticize the most ordinary of biological—or shall we say chemical—processes."

Jane prompted her: "Whereas you would…"

"Merely acknowledge the existence of a natural impulse common to all human beings. I don't deny taking pleasure in sexual activities, but I would be rather concerned if I were to suddenly start attaching emotional responses to intercourse."

"And sweetie, _that_ is what concerns the rest of us," Angela said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, Bones, don't rag on us for attaching an emotion like love to something as intimate as sex," Booth said.

"It wasn't my intention to offend anyone, Booth; I was merely pointing out the difference in how we all approach the subject. For example, while I'm sure that intercourse with you would be extremely pleasurable on a physical level, I feel confident in asserting that afterwards we would desire two diametrically opposing outcomes. It would hardly be worth the ensuing argument."

Maura tipped her glass at Brennan. "Sounds like staying away is a smart decision, then, Dr. Brennan."

Jane's phone rang just then, but before she answered it, she chided her friend: "Maura, stay out of their business!" It was too loud in the bar to hear, so she excused herself and quickly stepped outside for her phone call. The conversation was quick, but apparently a good one, because Jane was smirking when she strode back inside.

"Look, Dr. Isles, swagger!" Brennan exclaimed, pointing excitedly at Jane. "Is that a fair assessment, Angela? Does Detective Rizzoli possess 'swagger'?"

"Hell yes," Angela said with a catlike grin.

"Thank you ladies," Jane said, playing off the compliments much smoother than she felt, mostly to avoid blushing. She quickly changed the subject: "That was Frost. ZZ Top's crew is going to start setting up around ten a.m. tomorrow, Booth. We can try and talk to Brock then." Jane raised an eyebrow when Maura let out a little giggle. "Something amusing about that, Maura?"

"Not really," Maura chuckled. "But you just made an inadvertent rhyme! You said 'talk to Brock!'"

"And you find this humorous?" Brennan asked. "How much have you had to drink?"

"No—it's just that when I was a kid, my classmates used to tease me by calling me 'Maura the bore-a,' because it was as close as they could come to making a rhyme. Ever since then, I've gotten admittedly disproportionate pleasure out of hearing people make legitimate rhymes."

"Looks like Jane was a poet and didn't realize it," Angela joked, eliciting laughter from Jane, Booth, and Hodgins.

"Wait. Why was that funny?" Brennan queried.

As per usual, the responsibility to explain the joke fell to Angela: "When someone accidently makes a rhyme, you usually say 'you're a poet and didn't know it.'"

Understanding dawned on Brennan's face. "Ah! Thereby creating a rhyme within itself."

"Exactly."

"Well, I much prefer your statement, Angela. Rhyming does not necessarily a poem make, and people who believe such a simplification to be true are sadly mistaken."

"Tragically, irredeemably mistaken," sighed Hodgins, who had penned enough rhyming love letters to Angela to make the hacks at greeting card companies feel good about themselves.

Shortly thereafter, the group finally called it quits. Angela and Hodgins were tired from the drive, and the others from a long day of work. Booth, who'd had the least to drink that night, offered to drive his team back to the hotel in Hodgins' car, and Hodgins was only too happy to oblige. He was a tad less pleased once they had reached the hotel and Angela asked to share the room with Brennan. While Hodgins and Angela brought their luggage up from the car, Booth pulled Brennan aside for a quick talk in the stairwell.

"Listen, Bones. I know you're a very frank kind of person, and that you don't mean anything by it when you talk about our potential sex life in front of other people. But I do feel like I need to argue a point you brought up. It just wouldn't have been tactful to do it in a group setting."

"All right, Booth, what is it?"

"You don't think it'd be worth it to sleep with me because you dread having an argument afterwards. You think all of our irreconcilable differences would keep us apart, but I do think that's true. Not if you put in your best effort, which I know would be damn good. We're perfect for each other, Bones. Everybody sees that, and I wish you would."

"Booth, I…"

She was almost as surprised as he was to find herself stumped for a ready comeback, and when none came, Booth went in for a kiss. Again surprised, Brennan allowed herself to fall back against the wall, and after a few moments, she began returning the kiss. In the few times that Booth had kissed her before, he had always exhibited a tenderness which belied the strength Brennan knew he possessed—but that certainly wasn't the case now. He was rough, he was passionate, he was imagining everything he wanted to do to this woman. The conceited part of him wanted to try and change her mind with sex alone, but deep down he knew that was impossible. She wasn't initiating anything now, just responding.

He broke abruptly away, staring into Brennan's shocked eyes as he slowly pulled himself out of her arms. "You don't think that'd be worth fighting for?" he whispered.

Again getting no response, he ducked out of the stairwell to move his things from his and Brennan's room down the hall to the one he'd be sharing with Hodgins. He got there to see his roommate lying face-down on one of the twin beds, groaning into a pillow. Figuring all the alcohol had finally gotten to his friend, Booth said, "Don't worry, Hodgins, you'll feel better tomorrow. By the evening, at least."

But that wasn't it. Hodgins moaned: "Booth! How am I supposed to compete with a really hot lesbian and a really hot ambiguously gay woman?"

And Brennan could hear Booth's uproarious laughter from down the hall.


	9. Badge Up

Booth came around Jane's apartment at eight o'clock the next morning, and as they drove to a diner Jane had recommended for breakfast, she noted that her friend didn't seem to be in a particularly great mood.

"Something happen last night?" she asked. "After the bar?"

With a heavy sigh, Booth quickly reasoned that it wouldn't do any good to try and deceive Jane—she'd always been able to see right through him. "Yeah."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Bones. It's Bones. She's driving me up the wall! I mean, you heard what she said last night, about us having sex! It'd be so great, but she refuses to go there because of what I'd want from her afterwards, so now it's just, like—" He lifted one hand off the steering wheel and waved it aimlessly. "The whole sex invite thing is just floating in the air! It's been acknowledged, and totally ignored!"

Jane whistled. "Yeah, that _is _awkward."

Booth snorted. "You know, I think you have the right idea, Jane. I should've just kept my mouth shut."

"Why? Are you embarrassed? Brennan certainly doesn't seem to be."

With a sour chuckle, Booth said, "I don't think it's physically possible for Temperance Brennan to be embarrassed by anything. And no, _I'm_ not embarrassed, it's just …it just sucks knowing that she at least returns the notion that we'd be good together, but she won't go there. Wouldn't you say that's worse than if she just flat-out disliked me?"

As they pulled into the diner's parking lot, Jane considered this. "Yeah, I dunno. You may have a point."

"Incidentally," Booth said as they got out. "Angela thought you and Maura were dating."

"What? No way," Jane said with a smile.

Holding the door open for Jane, Booth followed her in and said, "Hey, her words, not mine. Although you have to admit it's an honest mistake."

Jane felt some long-dormant butterflies take flight in her stomach as she guided Booth to her usual table. "What makes you say that?"

He took her bashful grin as a cue that she was simultaneously curious and wary of what his answer might be, and thus was not uncomfortable in replying: "Well, you know. The way you guys touch each other sometimes, and the things you say."

"Like what?"

"I don't know—it's not always the exact words themselves, but how you say them."

"Which is…like what?"

Booth laughed, wondering if he'd ever get the chance to peruse the menu in peace. "Like Dave and Maddie on _Moonlighting_, I dunno! Flirty, cute."

"You think we're cute?" Jane asked, raising an eyebrow and grinning. "Aw, Booth, you old softie."

"Hey, you like this woman, right? And I'm your pal, right? So of course I'm gonna be gunning for you, Rizzoli. That's what friends do."

"Thanks, man."

"No problem. Now shut up for a second so I can figure out what I want to order."

Already knowing what she wanted, Jane just smirked and texted Frost. He had planned on getting to work early to start checking Alicia Howard's social networking sites, and Jane was curious to see how he was progressing.

_**Yo, Frost. I'm grabbing a bite with Booth—can I bring you anything/are you having any luck with the website stuff?**_

The reply was quick: _No and no. Alicia Howard didn't have any._

_** None?**_

_ None._

_** Wow. That's really weird. Check her phone records.**_

_ On it._

_** We'll be in soon. **_

Booth had flagged down a waiter, who took their orders and then bustled off to get them filled as quickly as possible. Nodding at Jane's phone, Booth said, "Any news?"

"Yeah, apparently Alicia didn't have like a facebook or Myspace or anything. Frost couldn't find any social networking sites under her name."

"Huh. Maybe she felt afraid to, being a politician's daughter?"

"Maybe. Yeah—Maura was telling me about a friend of hers… she married like a duke or something, and they have a thirteen-year-old kid who deactivated all her accounts because she kept getting harassed. And spammed, you know. Anyway, it might be something else we might want to ask Senator and Mrs. Howard."

"Hey, speaking of Maura…" Booth drained nearly half the cup of coffee their waiter had just dropped off. "You're—you're _sure _she's straight?"

"Booth! Look, all I'm saying is that everything I have witnessed in my years of knowing her has led me to believe that she is heterosexual. Would she be open to having a relationship with a woman? Sure, I dunno, maybe! But she's never made a pass at me, at least not an overt one, so…"

"Did you ever think maybe she was waiting for you to make one first?"

Jane stared at him, trying to gauge whether he was being serious or joking around. "Well, no, but… that's not Maura's style. She doesn't wait for stuff, she takes action."

Booth shrugged. "All right, if you say so. By the way, I had known Angela for all of two years before I found out she was bisexual."

"Really? You never saw her come onto a woman before?"

"Nope. But oh man, does she think you are one _hot_ piece of ass!" He had to laugh as Jane smilingly blushed, trying to think of a way to deflect the compliment. "Who could blame her, really. Now be honest, Jane. Did you find her attractive at all?"

Running a hand distractedly through her unruly hair, Jane sighed lightly, still grinning. "Well …I have to admit, I did find her more—uh, I guess, _attractive_ than the last time I met her. I mean she was still really gorgeous when we were at Hodgins' house, obviously, but I liked getting to spend more time with her. She's funny. And I could stand to take a lesson or two from her in the way she treats Brennan. Sometimes I worry that I'm a little too rude to Maura about her weird, social quirks. I like how Angela handled _her _nerdy doctor." She cleared her throat and took a long draw of coffee. "Um. So have _those _two ever, like…?"

"Who, Bones and Angela? No way," Booth snickered. "They're just friends. Inexplicably friends, but friends nonetheless. Hodgins is the one who's stuck on Angela."

With a good-hearted moan, Jane slumped back in her seat. "Great! So Hodgins likes Angela, Angela wants to get in my pants, and I'm in love with Maura, who thinks you're a hunk."

"She does?" Booth asked, perking up. He immediately neutralized his expression upon seeing the look on Jane's face.

"Sure, but so does my mother."

"Ha. Touché," Booth chuckled, finishing off his coffee. But his friend still looked tense, folding her arms and chewing the inside of her cheek, as if seriously considering Booth a potential threat. "Whoa! Don't worry, Jane, I would never try to put a move on your girl. I'm your wingman! Remember? And I'll even finish your little romantic octagon or whatever you were coming up with a second ago—Maura thinks I'm a hunk, I'm stuck on Bones, and _Bones _thinks Maura is into you."

"She—wait, she does?" Jane said, sitting up. "Did she tell you that?"

"Yeah, it was on our first night here. Or the next morning, actually. She just sort of conversationally brought up that after scrutinizing your interaction with each other, she thought Maura was attracted to you."

"Booth!" Jane cried, only refraining from reaching across the table and slapping his shoulder because their food had just arrived. "Why didn't you say that sooner?"

"Well what, I told you that Angela and I already thought it!"

"Yeah but Brennan's, like a doctor, an anthropologist, right? So when she notices stuff like this, it's more legit. No offense."

"None taken." Somewhat starving, Booth dug into his omelet with great gusto, but after a few bites, noticed that Jane was staring just over his shoulder, as if in a daze. "So what, you going to do anything about it?"

But he quickly guessed that he hadn't lost Jane because she was thinking of Maura; she wasn't staring off into space, she was staring at someone. Booth twisted in his seat and saw that Eden Carlisle had just walked in, dressed like the last time they had seen her, in running shorts and an old T-shirt. She was at this point ignorant of their presence, and seemed to be having an unpleasant discussion on her cell phone.

"Yeah, that's what I said," she muttered, her voice barely audible to Jane and Booth. "And if you don't like it, go crawl in a hole and take the hole with you!" With that unintentionally amusing line, Eden huffily hung up and stuck the phone into a band she had tied to her arm. She sighed heavily and trudged to a stool at the counter, where her conversation with the man at the register led Booth and Jane to believe they were on friendly terms.

"How you holding up, kid?" he asked.

Eden just shook her head. "I'm still waiting to wake up. I still can't believe this happened, that A.J.'s not… ever coming back."

The man reached out and gently covered one of Eden's hands with his own. "You'll see her again someday."

Though her back was to Jane, it was clear that Eden had started crying. "I know, but that's not helping very much right now. Brother Leighton, her parents don't want me to come to her funeral!"

"What? Why not? You were her best friend!"

"They've been mad this whole time—they think that because A.J. converted, God's going to punish her for joining some crackpot religion and she'll never get to heaven!" She put her face in her hands, and a girl two stools down from her awkwardly turned away. The man at the register was flustered, clearly trying to come up with the right thing to say and unable to think of it. Soon, Eden said, "I want to have a memorial service for her, though. We can have it at my house, my parents' house. For the ward. So we can all say goodbye." Then, as if suddenly feeling two investigative pairs of eyes on her, Eden turned swiftly and saw Jane and Booth sitting close by. "Oh!"

Jane stood up and Booth followed. "Eden."

"Detective," Eden breathed, taking some napkins the cashier had given her and wiping away at her tears, embarrassed. "Agent Booth, h-hello."

"Um, sorry, we couldn't help but overhear what you were just saying," Jane said softly, and Eden pursed her lips, shutting her eyes. "Is there anything else you'd like to tell us?"

"Like what?" Eden asked, sounding not insolent but merely tired.

"Who you were on the phone with just now, or when the Howards decided not to let you come to Alicia's funeral…" Jane took Eden by the arm and led her back to the booth she and… Booth were sharing. "Please, honey. Talk to us."

Eden wearily put her elbows on the table and pushed her face into her hands, trying once more to rid it of tears. "I was on the phone with a friend." She snorted a laugh. "Well no, not a friend, just a guy from school. He was—he was friends with Brock, I met him a couple of times." Sniffing loudly, she leaned back in the seat, trying to will herself to calm down.

Guessing there was more to the story, Booth asked, "And might this guy be at all connected to Alicia Howard?"

Before she could stop them, two more tears rolled silently out of Eden's round, green eyes. "Yes," she choked out. "Yeah. But he wouldn't have anything to do with this, sir, he's in Utah. He lives there, I mean his family is there, so he's not been in Boston. He knew Alicia but he couldn't have… killed her."

"All the same, would you mind if we asked his name?" Jane pressed her. "We're going to be seeing Brock in a couple of hours."

Eden clamped her eyes shut again, as if hoping that when she opened them, she would be transported to an entirely different place. After a long pause, she said, "Taylor White."

"Now how about the Howards?" Booth asked. "What exact reason did they give for not wanting to be at Alicia's funeral?"

"If you heard me talking to Brother Leighton just now, you know the reason they gave," Eden said, looking extremely pained. "I called them—well I called A.J.'s little brother, and then he gave the phone to Senator Howard, and I asked her what I could do, how I could help. And he said I could help by leaving them alone."

_Bastard_, Jane couldn't keep herself from thinking and instantly feeling guilty for it. The man's daughter had been murdered, so he had the right to be upset, but not allowing her best friend to attend the funeral was pointlessly cruel. "I'm sorry, Eden."

"It's okay," she said thickly, returning the very-crinkled napkin to dab futilely at her eyes. She took a deep shuddering breath to try and calm herself. "If either of you would like to come, I want to hold our own service for A.J. Lots of people in our ward, our congregation, really loved her."

"Keep us posted," Booth said, exchanging a look with Jane that tacitly conveyed it would be a good opportunity to scope out more potential suspects.

Sparing a glance for the clock over Booth's head, Eden jumped a little. "Oh, shoot, I'm supposed to take my sisters to the dentist—may I leave?"

"Of course," Jane said. "Sorry we kept you from getting breakfast."

"That's all right," Eden said with a faint smile, standing up. "I'll just grab a banana or something at home if my siblings haven't already eaten all our food." But just as she was headed for the door, the cashier called out her name and tossed her a glazed donut. She grinned and deftly caught it, then waved at Booth and Jane before exiting the diner.

Booth whistled and turned back to his (now somewhat chilled) omelet. "Man. That is _cold_."

"What, the Howards?"

"Yeah."

"Poor Eden."

"Poor kid."

In light of the murder and this sad turn of events, even something as important as their love lives didn't seem so pressing anymore. They finished their breakfast in relative silence, and the moment Jane had downed the last bit of her coffee, they were up and gone. To anyone standing near the entrance of Boston Police Headquarters that morning, it was clear that Jane Rizzoli and Seeley Booth were on a mission to kick ass and take names, in that order. There was none of Jane's usual air of politeness or excitement; both had been replaced by an unusually grim determination, matched by her equally strong and silent partner.

Together they approached Frost at his desk, and without so much as a preliminary hello, Jane said, "Tell us what you've got."

"Found an interesting bunch of texts between Alicia and Brock, and another number we traced to a Taylor White."

"Taylor White? Eden was just telling us about him," Booth said. "What'd they say?"

Frost nodded at one of the screens in front of them, where he had pulled up a series of conversations. The texts between Alicia and Brock didn't betray much except for the fact that there was obviously something they needed to talk about—which they apparently did at length, because there were a series of outgoing calls from Alicia to Brock. Whereas it might have been possible to only misread animosity in the messages exchanged with Brock (tones are difficult to fully comprehend electronically), there was nothing ambiguous about the texts from Taylor. There were only a few of them, but in the last, he called her a rather unsavory word and told her to "back off."

"So…you say Eden mentioned this guy?" Frost asked.

"Yeah, but he lives in Utah, and hasn't been to Boston, at least not lately," Jane said. "But I dunno, it could be worth asking Brock about." Suddenly realizing something, Jane turned to Booth and said, "Wait. How is Brennan getting here if you picked me up?"

"Apparently Maura texted her and insisted on driving her. Thought it'd give them some time to catch up on the newest Scientific Tortoise Weekly Journal or something like that."

It felt good to be able to laugh again. "Nice. Well…" Her phone buzzed, and with a quick glance, Jane said, "Huh. That's Maura now—they just got here. Hodgins and Angela are with them."

"Right! There was like, a bug or something that they wanted him to check out."

"Yeah…let's go down and check in with them before we head to the band's venue." Following Booth out the door, Jane turned to Frost and said, "Maybe just in case, you should see if you can find anything on this Taylor White guy."

They had a small welcoming committee at the HQ café in the form of Maura, Brennan, Hodgins, and Angela, the latter two wearing visitor's badges. Walking up to Maura, Jane said, "Maur, Booth and I are gonna go check out Eden's ex. Can you hold down the fort here?"

"The fort?" Maura asked, looking confused.

Jane smiled ruefully and put a hand on Maura's shoulder. "Can you take care of our D.C. friends while we're gone?"

"Oh. Well, goodness knows it won't be easy, but I think I'll be able to manage without you," Maura said dryly.

"Aw, your sarcasm is getting better day by day," Jane said. "I'm so proud. Angela, were your services needed here, or did you want to come with us?"

"You want me to tag along?"

"Well, I just thought that… you know, you might want to say hi to your dad."

Maura cut in before Angela could respond: "Typically, Jane, the actual band doesn't arrive until several hours after the 'roadies' have begun work."

Looking a bit embarrassed, Jane said, "Oh, duh." Truthfully she _was _totally aware of that obvious fact, but she'd been a bit distracted from remembering it due to Angela's appearance today. Her makeup was very understated, allowing Jane to fully admire the woman's natural beauty and softness (those amazing cheekbones!). Tight jeans clung to rather shapely legs, and capped sleeves showed off slender yet toned arms. For the first time in a very long while, Jane was mortified to find herself trying to mentally undress someone. She had asked Angela if she'd wanted to come along just for something to say, to get her mind out of the gutter, but also because she found Angela intriguing, and was curious to get to know her. So curious, in fact, that Jane totally missed the terseness of Maura's remark.

"You know, actually, I was going to ask if I could come with you," Angela said. "If he's not totally like, wasted, my dad likes to spend sometime with the roadies in the morning when they're setting up—bring 'em coffee and donuts, and stuff. He's kind of a sweetie sometimes. So if I'm not needed here, I'd love the chance to surprise him and say hello…"

Brennan answered before Maura could: "Well, we had planned on asking you to help us recreate the crime scene to determine whether or victim was killed from her fall or from within the apartment, but I realize that your specialty lies in relying on a very specific brand of technology currently sitting at the Jeffersonian in D.C."

Angela stared at her. "Right. So…I'm free to go?"

"I'm sure the BPD has someone on hand who will be competent enough to help us out," Brennan said, folding her hands in front of her. "So if Booth and Detective Rizzoli wouldn't mind—"

"Not at all," Jane said. "Consider it a lift."

With a giddy smile, Angela put a lid on her coffee and followed Booth and Jane towards the exit. Watching Jane hold the door open for Angela caused Maura to frown, and she wasn't totally sure why. It wasn't a romantic move, or necessarily even a friendly one; it was just Jane being polite. The difficult thing to explain away was the look that Jane and Angela exchanged, a sort of indulgent smile that Maura simultaneously was confused by yet knew too well. She masked the disappointment on her own face quickly enough, but Hodgins thought he saw a hint of it. Perhaps later they'd have to convene and commiserate over the fact that they seemed to be losing Jane and Angela to each other…

"I'm glad you're coming with us," Jane said to Angela as Booth headed off for the park Frost had given them directions to. "I'm not sure if Booth told you this or not, but Maura and I sort of had a bet going to see whether you or she could I.D. our victim first."

"Oh, he told me," Angela laughed from the back seat (which she had insisted on taking, despite Jane's attempts to be chivalrous). "So what do I win, detective?"

Jane spared a glance at the rear view mirror and caught Angela's smirk. "Well, I kinda hoped bringing you to your dad could count as a solid, but now that I think about it, that's not particularly rewarding, is it?"

There was a pause before Angela said, "I could think of something better, yeah." Booth coughed loudly to remind the women that they weren't alone, and Angela rolled her eyes. "Oh, relax, Booth. I don't have any illusions. Here's what I want you to do, Jane: call and leave me a message on my phone."

"Really? Why?"

Never one to shy away from frankness, Angela replied, "Because if sex was a person and had a voice, it would be yours."

"Whoa! Hey, come on!" Booth said. "Guy still in the car, remember?"

"Don't worry, Booth. She can do it later."

Though flattered, Jane was definitely a bit flustered. "Uh… what do you want me to say?"

"Whatever you want."

"What's your last name, Angela? I forget."

"Montenegro."

"Angela Montenegro." Jane grinned. "Nice. Ms. Montenegro."

Angela felt a very palpable shiver go down her spine at the sound of her name in that low, husky register. Booth, meanwhile, was beyond uncomfortable. "Practice on your own time, okay, Rizzoli?"

"Right. Sorry, Booth." Jane cleared her throat and cast about for a subject change. "I was thinking about this memorial service Eden wants to hold for A.J. We should go."

"Definitely."

"Undercover."

"As…Mormons?"

"Yeah. You know, if they think we're one of their own, they might be more open to sharing things with us."

"Jane, they're not carnies," Booth said, eliciting a giggle from Angela.

"Well I know, but—I dunno, I just think that… the girl who's been killed is the daughter of a high-profile politician, so it's a sensitive issue, and an alarming one. People might feel more comfortable sharing their opinions to someone they think comes from the same fold, you know? Not a federal agent and a lesbo detective."

"Yeah, I get you," Booth said. "We could bring Maura along as our, like translator. She seemed pretty well-versed in Mormon culture."

"How different is it from Catholicism, really?" Angela asked.

"Very," Booth and Jane answered. Jane continued: "That's a good plan, Booth, but she may be more useful speaking to us through a headpiece. She's gone undercover once before, but not to something like a memorial service. Not something personal, and intimate. One thing that's very important to know about Maura is that she is physically incapable of lying. In a case like this, that could blow our cover."

"She can't lie?" Angela asked. "That's kind of cute."

"Kind of," Jane said. "But it can be a real problem sometimes. Although …I admit, yeah, it's admirable. Sometimes she makes me feel like I need to work on being more honest."

A few minutes later, Booth pulled onto some turf by the park where ZZ Top would be performing. He got out and quickly ran to meet the organizer who was walking disapprovingly towards them, looking very displeased.

"Oops," Angela chuckled, as she and Jane stepped out of the car and Booth showed the man his badge. "I forgot to bring my I'm-Billy-Gibbons'-daughter badge to these things." She shivered and clutched her bare arms. "And a jacket. I left it in Hodgins' car!"

Jane smoothly removed her blazer and handed it to Angela. "Here, take this."

"What? Jane, no, you need it."

"I don't," Jane insisted, feeling fine despite the chilly November wind. "I was only wearing it out of habit, I swear."

Sensing that Jane wasn't going to take no for an answer, Angela just smiled and took the blazer. "Thanks," she said, slipping it on. "Probably just as well—Hodgins didn't think I dressed very professionally today. Which is true, but I'm technically not on the job, so…" Angela let it off there, but Jane, not being a moron, sensed that the ball was in her corner and she was supposed to step in and say something.

"Oh. Hey, I think you look great." _And kissable. Very kissable_.

"JANE!" Booth shouted from several yards away. "Get over here! Work! It's a thing, remember?"


	10. Lies

**A/N**: So, wow. This is kind of funny- the reviews are really divided. It seems like half of you really want Jane and Angela to hook up, and the other half of you will come after me with torches and pitchforks if they do. Let me make one thing clear: **I live for Rizzles**. I have an entire youtube channel dedicated to them and their adorableness. But look at the title of the story: not only is it a lyric from my favorite Elvis song (swoon!), but it explains how I want this story to unfold. I've written too many fics where it's love-at-first-sight, or love is proclaimed right away and everyone's okay with it. I wanted to try something new, for myself. Angela's interest in Jane and Jane's attraction to her provide a tension or an obstacle that I want to further explore. I totally believe that you can be in love with or pining after one person, but if you think they don't return those feelings, you will be open to hooking up with someone who is openly attracted to you and who you don't find repulsive. And wow. Sorry for that long explanation, but I wanted to get it out there!

* * *

><p>Booth and Jane were quickly directed to a Mr. Stevens, the man in charge of overseeing the roadies, who fortunately recognized Angela from prior concerts and welcomed her to hang out until her father arrived.<p>

"He called about five minutes ago, so he should be here pretty quick," he said before turning to Jane. "Now who was it you said you were looking for?"

"Brock Anderson."

"Right—hey, Ramsey!" Mr. Stevens called out to a nearby worker. "You seen Anderson around?"

"Yeah, he's with Russell, setting up amps."

Stevens looked to where his employee was pointing. "Oh! Yup, there he is, detective." In a slightly louder voice, he hollered out, "Brock!"

The two boys looked up as Booth and Jane started walking towards them, and the taller of the two suddenly took off like a shot. On instinct, Jane darted after him, while Booth snagged the one who'd stayed behind. Angela, meanwhile, nearly felt ready to ask Mr. Stevens to catch her, because the sight of Jane Rizzoli chasing down a suspect made her weak in the knees.

"You Brock Anderson?" Booth asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Oh. Jane!"

"Russell's double-parked, sir. I think that's why he freaked out."

Booth snorted a laugh. "Ah. Well. Mr. Anderson, I'm Agent Booth and the woman who's about two minutes away from feeling totally stupid for running down a double-parker is Detective Rizzoli. I'm guessing you might have a better notion than your co-worker of why we're here?" He folded his arms expectantly as Brock nodded slowly. About a minute later, Jane came walking back looking thoroughly annoyed. She explained shortly to Booth that after Russell kept shouting apologies over his shoulder and that he was going to fix his car right then, she had followed him into the car as he found a more appropriate parking place. "Great," Booth said. "Brock here was just about to give me his alibi."

"Hey, Booth," Jane said. "Looks like Angela found her dad." Booth followed her gaze, which indeed led to a giddy Angela embracing her famous father. "Why don't you go say hello? I got this." Sensing there was something more at work here, Booth clapped his hand against Jane's shoulder and walked over to Angela. Jane turned her attention back to Brock and said, "So. That alibi?"

"Well ma'am, uh, that night—I was Skyping. With a friend. A friend from school."

"For how long?"

"Uh, like… two hours, ma'am."

"No need to call me ma'am, Brock," Jane said. "Detective will do."

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's fine. Boy that's something you and Eden have in common though." At the girl's name, Brock's frown became more pronounced, as Jane guessed it would. "I know this an uncomfortable question, Brock, but I need to ask it. Did Alicia Howard have anything to do with your engagement being broken off?"

Brock sighed and looked away, hitting one fist against an open palm. "Well. Um."

"Who broke it off, you or Eden?"

"It was Eden's idea."

"And…do you have any reason to believe that Alicia helped Eden reach this life-changing decision?"

A grimace found its way briefly onto Brock's otherwise handsome countenance, and his fist started hitting his hand with a bit more force. "Yeah. If you ask me ma'am, detective, there was something _unnatural_ about their friendship."

Jane betrayed no anger at his word choice. "Are you insinuating that Alicia Howard and Eden Carlisle were romantically involved?"

Brock finally returned his gaze to her, appearing flushed. "Uh… to be perfectly honest, detective, I don't know what… 'insinuating' means."

"It means you are suggesting they were in a relationship."

"Oh. Well, it's just a suggestion, then, detective."

"And that's why you believe Alicia got Eden to break off the engagement."

"Well, why do you think they couldn't bring themselves to stay at BYU? Perversions like that aren't allowed," Brock said stiffly. "Alicia didn't trust me."

"Would you like to hear Eden's side of the story?" Jane asked, and Brock froze. "She said Alicia helped convince her to break up with you because of _your _behavior."

He looked at her like he was waiting for more. "What'd she say I'd been doing?"

Jane's eyes narrowed slightly, picking up on the anxiety in his tone. "She said you'd done nothing illegal."

"I haven't."

"Just that you hadn't been acting like a true son of God."

Brock snorted and looked away again. "Huh. Well." He scrunched his nose, and for all his attempts to project a tough exterior, it appeared to Jane as though he were fighting back tears. "Then that's a matter between me and the Lord, isn't it, detective? Look. Alicia was—she was a nice girl. I'm still upset that she had a part in splitting up me and Eden, for whatever reasons she had, but I could never hurt anyone."

Jane handed him her card. "Well, be in touch if you think of anything else you'd like to tell us. Oh, and I'll need the name of whoever it was you were Skyping at the time of Alicia's murder."

He appeared to be deliberating, and Jane recognized the classic signals of someone trying to decide whether or not to try and risk lying. Finally, with another short sigh he said, "Taylor White."

Again betraying nothing but professionalism, Jane nodded, thanked Brock, and told him to get back to his work. She headed over to Booth and Angela, and despite the seriousness of the case, she couldn't help but smile at the sight of Billy Gibbons. Actually meeting a man whose music had been a formative part of her childhood was more than a little surreal, and he turned out to be much more pleasant than she could have brought herself to expect. He put her right at ease, and Jane was almost sorry when Booth (rightfully) pointed out that they really needed to be getting back to work.

"Right you are, Booth," she said. "Excuse me, Mr. Gibbons—"

"Please, detective. It's Billy."

She smiled. "And it's Jane. Anyway, we've got a murder to solve. Angela, would you like to stay?"

"Yes, darlin', why don't you? I can give you a lift back to headquarters," Billy said. "And I'll give you first pick of the donuts I brought."

"Ooh, that's a hard one to pass up! I'll see you guys later!" Angela laughed, putting an arm around her father.

"So I got a chance to have a word with that Stevens guy before I spoke to Billy," Booth said as he and Jane walked back to his car. "He was afraid we were about to arrest Brock. Said he was one of the best kids he's had under him for a while. Polite, compliant, good-natured. Strong, too."

"We need to keep an eye on him," Jane said, getting into her seat. "He seemed really conflicted."

"About what?" Booth asked, cutting off a biker as he made his way back onto the road.

She shrugged. "Everything. Like …I dunno, it just seems like he's hiding something. It's not so much what he said, but _how _he was saying it. And he seems to have been under the impression that Alicia and Eden were um, more than friends." When Booth turned to gape at her, Jane slapped his shoulder and said, "Booth! Would you please keep your eyes on the road? You're scaring me!"

"Yeesh, sorry. But what did you expect me to do when you dropped a bomb that big? Jane, that's huge."

"_If _it's true. He didn't seem totally convinced himself."

"Why'd he say it then?"

"I don't know, maybe he was trying to throw us off? I mean I'll ask Eden about it, obviously, but… phew." She rubbed the back of her neck and stared out the window. "He said it was a perversion. Sorry—you don't have to say anything about that, Booth. It just makes me so mad sometimes, you know? Thinking that people, grown-up mature people, are out there telling kids to hate on other people just because they're gay. Just because they're born with an inclination to be attracted towards people of their own sex. And then those kids grow up and stay ignorant and teach _their _kids the same crap and it's just this vicious, never-ending lineage of prejudice!"

"I know," Booth said quietly.

Jane sighed heavily. "Sorry, Booth."

"Don't be. Don't be sorry. You're totally justified in being upset."

"You know… I've been thinking a lot about something Eden said the first time we met her. She said that she believed the devil had just as much influence over people as God. Do you think sometimes he can get a hold of good people and make them think the stuff they're saying is good? I mean I get the feeling that most of the perps we deal with, the murderers, the criminals, they _know _what they're doing is wrong. But what happens when the devil takes a good man… and puts his own evil ideas in his head?"

Booth stole a glance at her. "Huh. You saying you believe in the devil?"

"I dunno. I never really thought about it before. Isn't that weird? I mean, you spend all this time debating whether or not God exists, but you don't wonder about the devil. Isn't the idea of a devil just as absurd as the idea of a God? Objectively, I mean. Like if you believe in one, is it crazy _not _to believe in the other?"

"This is too much theology too early in the morning, Jane," Booth sighed. "Let's stick to what we _do _know for sure, all right?"

Jane snorted. "What, you mean the case? We know nothing about the case, except that Alicia Howard was murdered. We don't have a key suspect, and we don't have proof of any exceptional motives. Let's just hope Hodgins was able to figure something out."

It turned out that Hodgins did, in fact, have something for them by the time they returned to HQ. Unfortunately, the news wasn't all positive. Flanked by Brennan and Maura, Hodgins held up a small petri dish to Jane and Booth, who both leaned in closer for a better look. It contained a tiny, semi-squashed, fuzzy piece of something no longer than a centimeter or two.

"This," Hodgins said proudly, "belonged to an Aphonopelma seemanni. Or, in layman's terms, a Costa Rican Zebra Tarantula."

"Nice work, Hodgins," Jane said, straightening up. "I'm guessing by the name that they aren't native to these parts."

"No," Hodgins said, and the satisfied smile fell from his face.

Maura stepped in to explain: "We had Detective Frost do a search to find which pet stores in Boston might sell them, and none do. We even looked as far as the whole tri-county area, and came up with nothing. Only a few sold tarantulas at all, but none of them ever had this exact species."

"What about zoos?" Jane asked.

"Negative," Hodgins sighed.

"Well, damn," was all Booth could think to say. "What are the chances that this disembodied finger came from Costa Rica?"

Hodgins nodded at a nearby microscope. "Technically it's possible, although what it would then be doing in the dead hands of an American Senator's daughter is beyond me. I'm working on identifying the sediment Dr. Brennan found on it right now." Then, without skipping another beat he said, "Where's Angela?"

"Oh, she stayed back to spend a little time with her dad," Jane said. She then turned to Booth and added, "I'm gonna go check in with Frost and Korsak. I'm sure we can convince the Howards to let at least one of us attend Alicia's funeral—you know, so we can get the names and numbers of all the players. While I'm doing that, why don't you tell Maura about our proposal?"

"Proposal?" Maura said, raising her eyebrows as Jane grinned and left the room.

"Yeah. So Eden's planning on having some sort of memorial service at her parents' house for Alicia," Booth explained. "And Jane thought it might be a good idea for us to go to it, so we can sort of scout the scene for more suspects. Also, you know, get a better picture of the person Alicia had become in the last year. But Jane had this idea that people might be more open to sharing information with us if we went undercover as fellow Mormons."

"I see."

"Do you… think there's any merit to that idea?"

Maura furrowed her brow. "Well, I _suppose _it couldn't hurt. Although you should know that there is a very distinctive vernacular that comes with their religion. There are plenty of phrases and words that, as someone outside their faith, you are not aware of and they will notice your ignorance."

"It's true," said Brennan. "Religious groups make for fascinating anthropological studies because of the subtle yet extremely important differences among them."

Booth looked from one doctor to the other. "So what, like, so if I _said _something wrong, they'd notice?"

"That's a possibility, but let me put it this way," Maura said. "Could you act like you knew what someone was talking about if they mentioned, say, a patriarchal blessing?"

"A—what?"

"Or a celestial room? Or Nephi?"

"What's a Nephi?"

"One of their most important ancient prophets. Agent Booth, I'm afraid that you don't have sufficient time to do the research necessary to complete this undercover mission successfully. Why not just go as a detective and a federal agent? I'm sure these people would be more than happy to speak with you."

"But see, that's just it," Booth said. "Maura, the whole point of undercover is to get people to speak to us like ordinary people. I'm sure they _would _be willing to cooperate, but there's so many little, subtle things like Bones said—just seemingly everyday details that they think are unimportant. They accidentally leave something out when they're speaking to an authority figure that they might have let drop in front of a regular person. Now see, here's my theory: I go to this memorial service pretending to be, say, Alicia's priest from school."

"Her bishop, she'd have a bishop," Maura said. "Not a priest."

"See? This is exactly why _you_ would then come undercover as say, my wife," Booth said. "You know the intricacies way better than me or Jane, and we need your knowledge to help us out. Jane could even go just as a detective, but you and I, we'd be undercover Mormons!"

Though Booth had presented this idea with the enthusiasm of Santa Claus pulling an extra-large toy out of his sack, Maura did not seem quite as excited. "That does sound like a good plan in theory, Agent Booth, but I'm not sure I'm the right person to help you."

"What are you talking about? Of course you are! You're perfect!"

"I can't—"

"Lie? Yeah, Jane told me that already. Are you just really bad at it? Is that why you can't do it? You think you're unconvincing?"

"That's partly it," Maura said, looking supremely uncomfortable. "I still haven't ever strongly pursued the reasoning behind it. I don't know if I have a neurological condition that causes it or what, but I have trouble functioning when I'm knowingly telling a lie to someone. I'd be lying about being a Mormon and about being your wife."

"Look. Have you ever done undercover before?"

"Yes, once."

"So unless you were going undercover as medical examiner Dr. Isles, weren't you lying?"

Maura stared at him. This was a fair point to make—her one excursion into the world of going undercover had been at Merch, where she played a waitress. A gay one. How much of that had been a stretch? Still, she had to concede that Booth had a point. "I see what you mean, Agent Booth."

"You wouldn't even have to do that much lying," Booth said. "I can introduce you to people, like, hey, this is my wife! And then you just go into asking them stuff about Alicia, and anything you know about her. Leaving out truths is easier than lying, right? You can do it, I promise."

His eagerness and encouragement were paying off, as both were starting to rub off on Maura. Neither of them noticed the slightly peeved look on Brennan's face when Maura finally smiled and said, "All right, Agent Booth. Let's give this a shot."

"Great!" he laughed. "Maybe you could even get some practice in now. The next time somebody asks you something, tell a lie."

"Oh! Well, gosh, I don't know if I can do that. I mean, need sufficient mental preparation—to 'get in the zone,' as Jane might say."

A lab technician walked in just then, handing Maura a folder and saying, "Dr. Isles, when you get a chance, if you could look over these documents…?"

"Of course, thank you," Maura said, skimming through them. "I have a meeting with Commander Cavanaugh in half an hour, but I'll get through what I can before then." She maintained a straight face until the tech was out of the room, then turned to Booth with an open-mouth grin. "Agent Booth!"

"Yes…?"

"Did you hear that? I just lied!"

"You don't have an appointment with Cavanaugh?"

"I do, but it's in thirty-_two_ minutes! Not an exact half an hour!"

Booth nodded and smiled slowly. "Okay! Well! Good start there, Maura!"

"Thank you," she said, nearly beaming. "If you all will excuse me, I need to give these a going-over. I'll be in my office if you need anything!"

Booth watched her go, then turned to see how Hodgins was coming along. He found his path blocked by Brennan, who had her arms folded and was giving him a shrewd look. Before he had a chance to ask, she said, "You certainly seemed eager to go undercover as Dr. Isles' spouse."

"I'm just eager to have her expertise at hand."

"Booth, you didn't even _ask _me if I'd like to go with you! I have a relatively extensive knowledge of this cult as well—"

"Geez, Bones, have some respect, don't call it a _cult!_"

Speaking over him, Brennan said, "In recent years that word has unfairly been given a negative connotation, when really all a 'cult' refers to is a particular system of religious worship. Mormonism is just as much of a cult as Catholicism or Judaism or Islam. But my point is that I have a certain camaraderie with you that Dr. Isles can in no way cultivate by the time you go undercover. I believe I could more convincingly play someone who's been married to you for several years than she could. We've even done it before!"

Narrowing his eyes and grinning, Booth said, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous."

"I'm not _jealous_," Brennan said, looking affronted. "I'm merely striving to help you and Detective Rizzoli get as convincing an undercover couple as possible."

"Look, Bones. Yes, we've gone undercover as a husband and wife before, but that was different."

"How is it different?"

"We're going to a memorial service. Previous experience has taught me that the only respect you have for death is the clues and the evidence their bodies leave behind. These people who'll be mourning—they're like me. They believe in life after death. They believe that Alicia can still hear them, hear their prayers, and can watch them from heaven. You don't believe in _any _of that, and you never hesitate to scientifically point out to people why they shouldn't believe, either. I don't think you could keep all that to yourself at this service, when it's all anyone is going to really be talking about."

Although Booth's tone had been explanatory and not accusatory, Brennan couldn't help but feel like she ought to be offended. Booth walked over to Hodgins and the computer Maura had leant him, and began a conversation about the sediment he'd been studying. Rather than join in, Brennan paused for some quick self-reflection. She felt no remorse for her own beliefs about the afterlife, and didn't feel bad about raising an eyebrow when people expressed their hopes about the "spirits" of deceased loved ones still living on. Everyone dies someday, so there's no reason to romanticize it. What bothered her was the implication that Booth believed Dr. Isles would be more civil or even deferential about it, and that he really seemed to respect that. It was silly, she knew, but Brennan recognized whenever Booth used a reverential tone to describe someone or something, and she enjoyed it when that special sort of praise was reserved for her.

_This is ridiculous. I'm getting upset over nothing. _Nodding to herself, she turned around and went to Hodgins side to see how she could help.

About twenty minutes later, Jane was headed back downstairs to talk with Booth, and her timing happened to coincide with Angela's return to headquarters. They exchanged a smile at this happy coincidence, and Angela felt like a schoolgirl with a crush when she saw that instead of waving and moving on, Jane stopped and waited for her to walk over.

"So how's the old man?" Jane asked.

"Very good, and very impressed with you."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. He doesn't get phased by much, but sometimes his fans can get a little out there. He appreciated that you were down-to-earth." Angela set down her purse and shrugged off Jane's blazer. Sheepishly handing it back to the detective, she said, "Sorry I'm such a loser and forgot my jacket."

Jane's grin widened as she took the blazer and slipped it back on, noting a very subtle hint of Angela's perfume on the collar. "Don't sweat it, it's my pleasure. Glad I could help out."

Angela could not believe that someone this overwhelmingly attractive was single and was flirting with her. She also couldn't believe that every feature of one person could be so sexy. This realization had sort of a dazing effect, but Angela pulled herself together quickly enough to say, "Oh! I forgot—" She picked up her purse again and pulled out a small paper bag, handing it to Jane. "There was a donut left, and my dad said I should bring it back to you. Hope you like chocolate."

"Ooh! My favorite kind," Jane chuckled, peering inside. "And it's a great excuse for me to grab some more coffee, too."

"Cool. So where's the gang?"

"Downstairs in the morgue. I was just headed down."

"Great, I guess I'll meet you down there, but uh… could you tell me where the nearest restroom is?"

"Sure thing, it's down the hall, second door on the…left."

"Thanks Jane!"

"Of course."

As Angela walked quickly down the hallway, Jane watched her go, appreciating the way those tight jeans accentuated her fit ass in addition to her nice legs. But she was jarred out of this (admittedly inappropriate) reverie when a security guard, also watching Angela, elbowed his buddy and said, "How'd you like some fries with that shake?"

"Excuse me?" Jane said a bit loudly, wondering if she had misheard. Judging by the guilty look on the guy's face, she hadn't. "Keep those thoughts to yourself, officer." _Because fat load of good it does me to do that_… She headed to the café to pour herself some coffee, and was quickly apprehended by her mother. "Oh hey, ma. What's…" Catching a glimpse of her shocked expression, Jane raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Uh, what's up…?"

"Janie, who was that gorgeous creature I just saw you talking to?"

"Huh? Oh, that's Angela Montenegro, she works at the Jeffersonian with Booth and Dr. Brennan."

"Why was she wearing your jacket?"

"Well, we were outside earlier, and she'd forgotten hers, so…"

Mrs. Rizzoli smiled. "Aw, Jane! You're such a gentleman. I wish Frankie and Tommy were half as good at handling women as you are."

"Thanks, ma."

"So…"

Jane put a lid on her coffee and turned fully to look at her mother. "So…?"

"You gave her your jacket and she brought you a donut. And don't think I couldn't see the looks you two were giving each other!"

"Ma! Can we not talk about this at work, please?" Jane asked in a hushed voice.

"What? It's an honest question!" Mrs. Rizzoli insisted. "She's beautiful, and if she works at the Jeffersonian, she must be really smart."

"Yeah, I know…"

"Are you gonna ask her out?"

"I don't have time for this right now, ma!" Jane tersely responded. "We both need to get back to work!" With one more annoyed look, she walked around her mother and back to the door. Then, as was so often the case, Jane felt guilty for being so short with the woman who had spent twenty hours in labor to give her life, so she turned back just enough to catch her mother's eye and say, "Maybe."

She made sure to leave again before she could see Mrs. Rizzoli's reaction, which was probably just as well. It had been a long time since Jane had been involved with anyone, so it was nice that she could be putting herself back out there again. But like any good mother, Mrs. Rizzoli wasn't totally ignorant of who she felt her daughter really wanted: those vibes between Jane and Maura seemed more than friendly. For her part, Mrs. Rizzoli would be thrilled if the two of them were together, but like everyone else, she was under the impression that Maura was romantically interested only in men. _Jane would have to make the first move… well, maybe someday! _Because after all, a mother can dream.

While Jane's awkward conversation with her mother had been going on, Angela was touching up in the bathroom. It had gotten quite breezy outside, and much as the windswept look often suited her, Angela wanted to be a bit more put-together. She had just finished re-applying her lip gloss when Maura, on her way up to see Cavanaugh, stepped into the restroom.

"Oh, hello, Angela!"

"Hi, Maura." She shut the lip gloss and put it back in her purse, closing it with a sharp snap. "How are you?"

"Oh, fine. I'm fine. Hodgins was able to identify the piece of an arthropod Dr. Brennan and I found earlier, so it's been a fairly successful day so far." She was going to go ahead and enter the first stall, but caught a glimpse of Angela's expression in the mirror, which made her halt. Angela was looking at her, biting her lip as if biting back a question. "Angela? Is there something else you'd like to say to me?"

Ever since Jane had mentioned Maura's inability to lie, Angela had considered asking the doctor straight-up whether she was attracted to Jane. Confrontations like this were never awkward for her, but now that her moment had come, she was anxious about the reply. Even if Jane wasn't interested in Maura that way, knowing that Maura _was _would force Angela into an uncomfortable position…

After a short pause, Angela sighed and turned away from the sink to look at Maura full-on. "Okay, I've just got to ask you something, Maura. And if you think it's none of my business or that I'm being rude, please just tell me and I won't say anything else." She stopped to make sure Maura was on board with this, and when the doctor nodded, Angela continued: "Be honest with me. Do you like Jane?"

"Certainly I do. She's my best friend."

"I know, but I mean…do you like her as _more_ than a friend?" When a reply didn't come right away, Angela took a step closer and explained, "This isn't just me being nosy, I swear. I'm really attracted to her. Like… wow. Just wow. But I don't want to, uh, come between you two if there's something there."

"There isn't," Maura said blankly. "We're just friends."

"Right, but…I mean if _you_ wanted more out of that friendship, I don't want to get in the way of that. The first time I met Jane, I didn't know about you. I didn't know how you guys, um, interacted. So I hope I don't offend you when I say this, but it kind of seems like there's something there…"

She trailed off, waiting for Maura to pick it up. After a moment, Maura forced herself to smile and said, "That's very chivalrous of you, Angela, and I take no offense at your assumption that there's something between me and Jane. You're not the first person to point it out, in fact!"

Angela couldn't help but feel that Maura was avoiding giving her a straight answer. "So… do I have the green light?"

"Are you asking my permission to pursue Jane?"

"I'm asking if you are attracted to her. If the answer is yes, hey. I'll be sad, but I'll go back to D.C. and get over it."

Another lengthy pause followed. Maura only answered eventually because she figured that the odds of the restroom remaining private for much longer were very slim. "No, Angela," she said softly. "I am not romantically interested in Jane."

Angela smiled with relief, as if this was Maura's blessing. The woman couldn't lie, so she shouldn't feel guilty, right? "That's good to know, Maura, thanks! And you know, nothing might even happen, but just in case it did, I wanted to make sure you were cool about it. See you!" With a cheery wave, she collected her things and walked out of the restroom.

As soon as the door had swung close behind her, Maura took a step forward and tightly gripped the sink's edges with her hands. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes screwed shut, waiting for the pain in her stomach to grow sharper. It already felt as though she was going to throw up, but she wasn't surprised: she always felt that way after telling a lie.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: So yeah, Maura's still trying to practice lying/work on figuring herself out. She has her own secrets that I haven't written about yet though, so...stay tuned! And if you feel like this story isn't providing the Rizzles you so desperately crave, I'm working on an AU fic right now. And just uploaded a video of them set shamelessly to a song by the Pussycat Dolls. Check out my profile for a link if you're interested, because comments are greatly appreciated- as are reviews! :) Y'all are awesome. Oh, and then go watch Downton Abbey.


	11. Screw Up

**A/N**: I'll be upfront. If you're looking for nothing but immediate Rizzles, go elsewhere. There are literally hundreds of other wonderful stories on this site about those two for you to choose from. I do intend to have Jane and Maura wind up together, but you're going to have to wait. Hope you don't mind, because I am enjoying the heck out of writing this.

* * *

><p>A plan was mostly in place: Korsak and Frost would attend Alicia's official funeral, as the Howards felt it only appropriate to have the department's senior detective working on the case. Jane and Booth, meanwhile, would scope out the service Eden was putting together, hopefully with Maura's help. She and Frost had also just unearthed some rather interesting information on Eden Carlisle, and Jane was just on her way back down to tell Booth about it when she was apprehended once more by Angela near the front door of BPD.<p>

"Ms. Montenegro, fancy meeting you here," she said.

Angela had to grin. She normally felt a bit odd having people address her so formally, especially when it was someone she knew, but there was just something so indefinably sexy about the way Jane said it that she didn't mind. "Hello, detective."

"Headed out?"

"Yes, I was going to meet my dad for lunch. Don't suppose you'd care to join?"

"Wish I could," Jane said with a rueful smile, nodding behind her to indicate that she was needed here. "Have a nice time, though."

"Sure, sure…" Before she lost her nerve, Angela said, "I know you guys are working really hard right now on a super important case, but my dad—and, well, I—_did_ want you to know that we could swing something if you and Booth wanted to come tonight. To the concert, I mean. If you get off in time."

Jane grinned slowly, knowing the odds of her being able to get out in time were very slim. "Tell you what. I'll call to give you my answer, and I'll leave that message you asked for. So don't pick up."

"Deal," Angela laughed. "See you around!"

As she waited for the elevator that would take her back downstairs, Jane quickly tried to asses the wisdom in what she was doing. She couldn't even remember which of them had been first to open this flirtatious dialogue. Yes, Angela had made the first move back in D.C., but she had been tipsy and under the impression that she wouldn't see Jane ever again. Since she'd been here though, Jane found herself becoming attracted to her. Could anything come of it, though? Angela would probably be back en route to D.C. tomorrow, or the next day, at least…

A small fight broke out in her head once she got into the elevator: _Who cares if she leaves soon? There's nothing wrong with just getting some action. __**Yeah there is. I don't do that anymore. I'm not a kid anymore! **__Hooking up isn't just for kids, you prude. __**That's not what I'm looking for right now. I want a relationship, a real one. **__So what about a long-distance relationship? That could work, right? And Angela's sort of in your line of work, so she wouldn't be a wimp when it came to your job. __**That's true …but what about Maura?**_ _What __about__ her? Either make a move on Maura or don't—you can't just expect her to say something, it's got to come from you! __**But Angela's available and into me and hot and interesting! And into me! And hot! **_

She had just banged her head against the wall of the elevator when its doors opened, revealing Booth, Brennan and Hodgins standing there, looking a tad surprised.

"Oh. Hi, guys," Jane said lamely.

"Detective, are you feeling well?" Brennan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." She walked out, and the others followed her back to the morgue. "So? Find anything?"

Hodgins shrugged. "The dirt was pretty nondescript. It could have feasibly come from any area in the northeast."

"What the hell does that stupid finger even have to _do _with Alicia Howard?" Jane growled, glaring at the tray that held the dirty, disembodied digit. "Why did she have it at the crime scene?"

"I dunno, Jane, but maybe we shouldn't be focusing on that," Booth said lightly. "If we find a connection, great, but our best bet right now would probably be to focus on Alicia, and getting more suspects."

"Great, so are we done here?" Hodgins asked. Jane stared at him. "Well… I was only waiting to talk to you. Billy and Angela invited us to lunch."

"You two go ahead," Booth said, nodding at Hodgins and giving Brennan a pat on the shoulder. "We'll stay here and try to find some more answers." As soon as they left, Booth turned to Jane, folding his arms and looking at her expectantly.

"What?" she asked, giving him a sour look.

"I think you know damn well what," he said with a knowing smirk. "Angela goes up, you come down, and you're banging your head in the elevator. Is there something you're not telling the class here, Rizzoli?"

With a loud groan, Jane slumped onto a nearby stool in defeat. "I feel really confused right now."

"About Angela?"

"Yeah, and…" She clenched her jaw and glanced tellingly at Maura's closed office door. Booth followed her gaze then looked back to Jane, waiting for her to elaborate. Jane was loath to bring it up, but she worried that if she didn't, she would just be setting herself up for more awful Gollum-like, back-and-forth arguments in her head. She sighed heavily and said, "Angela's a nice girl."

"Yes," Booth said, taking the stool next to her. "Yes she is."

"But she lives in D.C., and I live here."

"Okay, two things, Jane. First of all, yes, she is attracted to you. But that doesn't necessarily mean she's looking for a life-long commitment from you."

"Hark who's talking!" Jane cried. "You're the one who got me to stop hooking up with people because it—I dunno, it wasn't decent! Now you're telling me to just get with your friend and then let it go at that?"

"Hear me out," Booth said patiently. "My second point was that you're already over-thinking this. If you two, say, went on a _date _or something, you'd both be more sure of where you stand. You could find out what she wants from you. If all she's after is…" He wavered awkwardly. After all, Jane and Angela were both his good friends, and much as he liked the idea of them going out, he felt a bit uncomfortable encouraging them to have sex. "To… you know," he finished somewhat pathetically, "then at least you'll know."

"Well…well, what if that's all _I _want, too?"

Booth raised his eyebrows again. "Excuse me?"

Jane looked down at the floor, interlacing her fingers. "I know it's hypocritical, Booth. But I'm starting to get worried about myself."

"What do you mean?"

"Maura," Jane muttered. "Lately I think I've just been spinning my wheels, ready and raring to go but not having the guts to tell her anything. I think I've been, I don't know, subconsciously avoiding dating other women because the one I want is _right there_." She pointed at Maura's door, then let her arm fall with a heavy slap back to her leg again. "She's always two feet in front of me and I can't say it. What's wrong with me? When did I get so sad?"

"Why haven't you just told her how you feel?" Booth asked.

"What if she rejects me?" Jane whispered.

Booth leaned forward, putting his arm around Jane's shoulder. They both seemed focused on the same spot on the tiled floor, because Booth didn't want to force Jane to look at him and Jane was afraid that if she did, she would burst into tears. When _did _she get so pathetic? How long had she let her desire for Maura keep her from really living? Was that the reason she had shut down so many potential girlfriends? And what was it about Angela that got Jane so interested? For some reason, she felt guilty for her attraction towards Angela—but why? She didn't owe anyone anything, least of all Maura, who was blissfully ignorant and happy to remain nothing more than Jane's friend.

"Can I tell you something?" Booth asked quietly.

His tone got Jane to glance over at him. His arm was still draped over her back, so she couldn't move much, but she waited for him to meet her gaze. "Of course," she said, sounding a little surprised.

"I really was in love with you," he said, looking back to the floor with a sad chuckle. "I was so in love with you, and I was so sure you felt the same way about me. Sometimes when things were quiet, or you'd leave after we had a really great, long conversation, I'd have these little fantasies. Not, uh, _those _kind of fantasies. I mean I would envision the two of us married, living in some nice suburb. We had a house and a white picket fence, a dog and some kids. Some kids who were proud to have such badass parents," he added, trying to inject a little humor into this sad reflection. It worked a bit; at least Jane laughed weakly with him. "I thought—I mean, I waited so long to tell you because, well, we were in a war zone. It didn't seem like the right place or time to say it, but then I realized that was a really cowardly excuse. If I was honest with myself, I _was _afraid maybe you didn't… return those feelings. But I had to have it out. I had to tell you. And then I did. And then you told me your big secret."

"You took it really well," Jane said. "I remember."

"No," Booth said, withdrawing his arm from around her. "No, I _acted_ like I took it well. Jane, I was never angry with you or anything like that, _please _believe that. I didn't hold it against you or blame you for—it. You weren't—you aren't—attracted to men. You can't change that, and I would never ask you to. Did it still hurt like hell, though? Yeah. Of course it did. I wanted you more than I had ever wanted any other woman. I wanted you in every way. I loved you in every way. So to hear that anything between us was a total impossibility? It broke my heart. It broke my heart because I knew it meant I had _no. Chance_. Ever. "

Jane realized her eyes were sheen over with tears. So wrapped up in her own despair and fears, she had never known—or perhaps cared to know—how deeply Booth had been affected by this. "Booth, I'm…I'm…"

He looked over at her, and sat up straight, sighing loudly. "Aw, geez, Jane, this is why I never wanted to tell you! I don't want you to feel guilty about it, you have _nothing _to feel sorry about. I was sad, but it wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. Look how far we've come! Look how close we are, huh?" He put his arm back around her, and she shuddered with another shaky laugh. "The point, Jane, is that I got over it. I learned how to deal, and I love you like a sister. But I don't still harbor feelings for you. Who knows how much time I could have _wasted _if I had spent years pining after you? If I had never learned about you?"

Jane took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. "All right Booth," she whispered, patting his knee. "I get it."

"Let's talk about what we know," Booth said, wanting to get right down to it in case Maura came back soon. "Maura's your best friend. She absolutely adores you. She knows you are a lesbian. This doesn't offend or repulse her any way. She's kind, she's sweet. Those are the facts. Okay? Can you agree that those are facts?"

"Yes," Jane sighed. "Yes, they're facts."

"All right then. So, now, let's be logical. You tell her how you feel. Maybe she turns you down. She does it carefully, quietly, sadly—sad because she doesn't want to break your heart. Because you mean more to her than anyone else in the world, and she wants so desperately for you to be happy, but she can't _be _that for you. It's just not how she's wired. It's nothing to do with _you_, but she's trapped. There's nothing she can do." He let that sink in, rubbing Jane's back as she sniffed loudly and wiped away at the few tears that had managed to escape. "But Jane, you'll never know unless you _say _something. You'll never get over it unless you can broach it. And hey, who knows? Maybe Maura's just waiting for you to speak up. Maybe she's waiting for you to be the brave, courageous, initiative-taking person we both know you to be."

"That's just it, Booth," Jane said. "I _do _think I'm a brave person. But this, I feel like there's so much hanging in the balance—I don't want to screw it up…"

"Jane, listen to yourself. I know how you feel, 'cause I've been there, okay? If you get rejected, it hurts like hell. But you _will _get over it, I know you will. And you and Maura, you can still be best friends. I know you will be, because that friendship is worth fighting for, just like ours was and still is."

"I'm not as strong as you, Booth."

"Bull."

"Booth—"

"Don't _tell _yourself that, Jane, all right? I understand your apprehension, but the Jane Rizzoli I know _is _capable of handling this. As far as your love life goes, if you stay like this, just stalled, you're gonna be miserable. You either have to man up and tell Maura how you feel, or try going out with Angela and see how _that _feels. But if you ask me…"

"What?"

"It just really seems like Maura is into you. Angela, Bones and I all think so."

Jane laughed softly. "Yeah, you mentioned that. The thing is, Maura's, well, naïve. Not naïve, she just doesn't understand a lot of… basic… human interaction. I've seen her around men. If I push it, yeah, maybe it seems like she treats them similarly to how she treats me. But I think that's because she's never had a best friend before, and our relationship is so close that it—that she—I dunno, she doesn't know where that line is. And part of it's my fault for not discouraging her enough." Part of her wanted to tell Booth about Ian, and how much his memory bothered her. Maura called him the love of her life…how could she compete with that?

Booth asked, "When's the last time you went on a date?"

"Phew. Uh. Like a real date?"

"A date like you asked a girl out, or she asked you out, you got food or went to a movie, and you made out."

Jane was startled by how long it took her to remember. She sat up a little straighter, taking another deep breath to try and calm herself down. "Boy. I guess it was about, uh, four months ago?"

Considering Jane's confidence and her devastating good looks, it might have been surprising that so long had passed without a date. But without pressing her, Booth guessed part of that was because of her job: not a ton of women were incredibly eager to date cops. Oh sure, they thought the badge was hot, and one-night stands were common for that reason, but it was harder to make them feel comfortable enough to commit.

"And when's the last time you…slept with someone?"

"Can we not talk about this anymore?" Jane said abruptly. "Booth, I appreciate what you're trying to do, really. You made your case, and it makes sense. I intend to think about it, I swear." And she did. She felt wracked with guilt over the pain she had caused Booth, but she was profoundly grateful that he had been willing to share it with her. The truth was, he was right. Maura wouldn't turn on her. She would be kind, she could take it. After a long pause, Jane said, "Angela wanted us to come to her dad's concert tonight."

"Yeah?" Booth asked, trying to gauge her emotions. "What'd you say?"

"Said I'd call her," Jane snorted. "It could be fun to go… we'd have to go late, and just for a little while, maybe." She jumped when her phone started ringing, and it dawned on her when she opened it that she didn't have Angela's number. "Rizzoli."

"Detective Rizzoli, hi. This is Eden Carlisle."

"Eden! Hello."

There was a short pause. "Are you all right, detective?"

Jane glanced at Booth, as if he too could hear what the girl was saying. With one more loud sniff, Jane said, "Yes, I'm all right, thanks. Just fighting off a cold. What can I do for you?"

"Well, it's about the memorial service for A.J. We're still planning on holding it, and when I told my parents you and Agent Booth wanted to come, they said to ask when would be a good day for you."

"Wh—oh, well, you shouldn't be planning it around us."

"The only reason I ask is because Thanksgiving is this week, and we didn't know if either of you would be going out of town a few days early for the holiday. We want to make sure at least one of you is here for the service."

"Oh. Oh, Thanksgiving, right. No, we'll be here."

"Would you like to spend it with us?"

"Spend…"

"Would you like to spend Thanksgiving with us? We're so grateful for everything you're doing for A.J., and if you don't have plans…"

"That's…very kind of you, Eden, but…" _Not entirely appropriate_. "We're taken care of, thank you."

"Well, as long as you have somewhere to go!"

"Yeah…just call when you set a date for that service, all right?"

"Yes, ma'am. Goodbye!"

"Oh, wait, Eden—could you come in today, please?"

"Uh, sure. Did you find something new?"

"We may have. I'd like to ask you something in person."

"Yes, all right. Shall I come in now?"

"That would be great, yeah."

Sounding a little confused, Eden said she could be there in half an hour or so, and Jane hung up, feeling a little shell-shocked. "Well that was awkward," she said, putting her phone back in her pocket. "A potential suspect and near-stranger just invited us to spend the holiday with her family."

"The…oh crap, Thanksgiving."

"I know. With all this going on, I totally forgot about it."

"I tried to," Booth muttered. "Parker's spending it with his mom this year."

"Aw. Booth, I'm sorry. Hey, do you have plans? You should come spend it with us. Maura's once again graciously offered to open up her house to my family, and we would all love it if you joined us."

"Ah, I dunno," Booth chuckled. "Wouldn't want to impose. Besides, Bones and I usually do something together."

"Well she can come too! The more the merrier, Booth, really. You just said you loved me like a sister. Thanksgiving's a time for…" She cut off there, not wanting to rub salt in the wound of Parker's absence. "It's time we made you an honorary Rizzoli, Booth, and that's that. I'm afraid my mother's going to insist on it."

"Insist on what?" came a distinctly feminine voice.

Jane nearly fell off her stool. "Maura! What—I thought you were in your office!" she cried, looking from Maura to the still-closed office door.

"Well, you were mistaken," Maura said simply, walking in from the hallway doorframe. "Anyway, my question still holds: what's your mother going to insist on?"

"Booth and Brennan are going to be alone on Thanksgiving," Jane said. "I told him we could offer them a less lonely alternative."

"Oh, absolutely, you must spend it with us!" Maura said, looking delighted. "It'll give us a chance to work on our undercover relationship!"

"When you put it that way, how could I refuse?" Booth laughed. "I'll talk to Brennan about it as soon as she gets back from lunch."

"Why don't you call her up and ask now?" Jane said, giving him a very pointed look. "You know. Find out as soon as possible." Knowing all too well what Jane was really getting at, Booth nodded and walked out into the hallway, leaving Maura and Jane alone in the lab. "So," Jane said, joining Maura near one of her many microscopes. "I might have a date tonight."

Maura forced herself to concentrate on looking at the sediment Hodgins had left under the microscope. "Really?" she asked, her voice light and curious. "Who with?"

"Angela Montenegro."

"Right, I should've known."

"Why would you have known that?"

Maura straightened up, meeting Jane's inquisitive (and embarrassed?) gaze. "Because she's so obviously attracted to you. I figured it was only a matter of time before she made a formal proposition of some kind."

"Oh," was all Jane could think to say. Technically Angela hadn't asked her on a date, since she had mentioned Booth should come to the concert, too. But Jane had wanted to get some kind of reaction out of Maura, and so far it was disappointingly apathetic. "So you think I should say yes, then?"

Appearing surprised that a final decision hadn't been reached, Maura said, "Do you find her attractive?"

"I guess, yeah."

"Well then a date would seem to be the next logical step," Maura said, idly picking up a clipboard and scanning the information on the top sheet it held. "It would allow you to get to know her better, and help you decide whether or not this is a relationship either of you are interested in pursuing. You told me just a few days ago that you aren't interested in meaningless sex, so I'm forced to assume that your willingness to entertain the notion of going on a date with Angela is indicative of something more than mere physical attraction."

As was often the case, Jane had to wait a moment to make sure Maura's rant was over, and then another moment to process it. "So you… you think I should go."

Maura looked up from her clipboard, frowning. "Why are you asking me?"

Jane smiled awkwardly, giving Maura's shoulder a light punch. "'Cause! You know, this is what friends do."

"Oh. Right."

"Talk about prospective dates, and get… their friends' opinions. What do you think of her?"

"Angela?"

"No, Kim Kardashian."

"Well, I have to say I normally like to reserve judgment on people I've never met, but the extravagance of that wedding was an atrocity unlike any…" She caught Jane's disbelieving gaze, and said, "Oh. You were being sarcastic." With a sigh, she lay down her clipboard and said, "She's a very nice woman. She's obviously smart and talented if someone like Dr. Brennan holds her in high esteem. And she's a fan of my mother, so you know she has good taste in art."

"My top priority when it comes to choosing women, yes," Jane chuckled. "Okay then. Maybe I'll do it." She motioned at Booth, who was pacing the hallway outside, and he wrapped up his phone call to Brennan. "Thanks for the pep talk, Maur."

Still feeling a bit blindsided, Maura worked quickly to control her expression as Booth walked back into the room. "Maura, if you're sure about having us for Thanksgiving, we'd really love to spend it with you."

"Of course I'm sure," Maura said, genuinely smiling when she saw Booth's happiness at her words. "Besides, since you're here on the case, it makes more sense for you to stay in town for the holiday. It will be a pleasure to have you join us."

Booth thanked her profusely, then turned to Jane. "So guess what Brennan told me. You remember Cam?"

"Yeah, she was at the _Godzilla _thing, right? Brennan's boss?"

"Yup, that's the one. She's coming to Concord to spend Thanksgiving with her cousin, and since she's making the trip, wants to stop by and see how our case is coming along."

"Wow. Random. When's she coming?"

"Well apparently, she's almost here."

"What?"

"Got up at the crack of dawn, and headed on out."

"Who…who's manning the Jeffersonian?"

Booth chuckled. "I don't think Cam's taken a day off in about three years. She had some vacation time coming to her, don't worry."

"That reminds me," Jane said. "Well, actually, it doesn't. Bad segue, sorry. But do you have Angela's number? I just realized I don't have it."

"Yeah sure." He gave her the number, then cleared his throat and said, "By the way, what'd you want to bring Eden Carlisle in for?"

Before Jane could answer, she caught sight of Frankie standing hesitantly by the door in the hallway. Ignoring the fact that Booth, Jane, and Maura were all staring at him, wondering why he didn't just come in, Frankie silently motioned for Jane to come over. Telling Booth she'd be right back, Jane walked over to her brother, who turned and walked a little further down the hallway for some privacy.

"What's up, bro?"

"Okay, before you say anything, just hear me out, Jane. Gina Maggione just cancelled on me."

"Who?"

"Gina! Remember, I was gonna take her to the policeman's ball?"

"The—oh, yeah."

It had become a sort of tradition for the department to hold a Thanksgiving party, which were getting more and more lavish each year. Originally it had been held near Christmas, as it was a more festive holiday and nearly everyone working there was Catholic or some other Christian denomination. All it had taken to overturn this policy was one embittered atheist, who lodged a complaint and got it changed to Thanksgiving, thinking he was doing a favor to all other non-believers and people of other faiths. He didn't realize that nobody really cared, but nobody cared enough to complain about his complaint, either, so Thanksgiving it was. A few cops had started jokingly referring to these parties as "policemen's balls," ever since it became a tradition a few years ago to have a small, live band play. Jane rarely went to these events, mostly because she hated the pomp and circumstance of it all (they were supposed to dress in uniform), but also because there was often dancing, and she hated dancing. And it was expected for you to bring a spouse or a date, and Jane felt like a loser going without either. Frankie, on the other hand, thrived on these parties. His dates never failed to be impressed, and Jane was quietly grateful that Gina had cancelled on him, because in Jane's frank opinion, the girl was kind of a skank.

"So anyway," Frankie said, "It's tomorrow night, Jane, and I haven't got a date."

"Aw, man. Sorry, Frankie, I know how much you wanted to go."

"Jane, I wanted to ask you if you… if you'd mind…"

"Ew, Frankie! Are you asking me to go with you?"

"What? No! Gross, Jane, what the hell? I wanted to ask if you'd mind if I asked Maura to come with me."

Jane raised her eyebrows. "You want Maura to be your date?"

She didn't seem to be angry, but Frankie cowered anyway. "Not like a _date_-date. But we're friends, and if nobody else has asked her to go, I think it'd be fun. I would make it very clear that I just want to go as friends. That it's not a real date."

"That she wasn't your first choice?" Jane teased him.

He narrowed his eyes. "She knows how much I like Gina. It'd just be weird to go alone, you know?"

"Yeah, Frankie. I think you should go ahead and ask her. You didn't need to like, ask my permission."

"I know, I just wanted to ask…I mean she's your best friend, and I didn't want you to think I was trying to do anything sneaky behind your back or anything."

Jane gave him a good looking-over. Frankie was earnest and sincere, and she could tell that he genuinely just wanted to ask Maura to come with him as a friend. He didn't know a lot of women, and he felt comfortable around Maura—not as comfortable as Tommy, who had gone too far, in Jane's opinion. She wasn't entirely sure how Maura would take this last-minute invitation, but she told Frankie to go ahead and down and ask her anyway. He had nothing to lose. Somewhat adorably, Frankie said he still felt a little awkward about it, and wanted to go for lunch before he asked Maura about it.

As Frankie ambled back to the elevator, Jane got an idea. Walking even further down the hall, Jane took out her phone and dialed Angela's number. As it rang and rang, Jane chuckled to herself, feeling as nervous as a teenager calling up the most popular girl in school for a date. As per Jane's instructions, Angela didn't answer, allowing for Jane to leave the following message:

"Hey Angela, it's Jane. Jane Rizzoli. I'm really sorry to say that I don't think I can make it to your dad's concert tonight. As much as I'd love to go, I don't feel comfortable making a commitment, because I'm foreseeing a long evening here. However, I want to make a counter-offer. The department's holding a sort of a… party tomorrow night, and I wasn't gonna go, but if you're free, and still in Boston, I'd love to take you as my date. Anyway. Just call me back when you can, and let me know. No hard feelings either way. See ya."

Now there was that old feeling in Jane's stomach, a sort of nervous excitement, mixed with surprise at what she had just done. For the first time in ages, she had asked a woman out on a date. _Maybe this'll be good for me. Booth's right, I'm never going to get anywhere just pining after Maura…_

She stayed in the hallway another minute or two, suffering through a second round of internal questioning. Meanwhile, Booth had gone upstairs to prepare to meet Cam, and Maura was alone in the morgue—alone with her thoughts. It had recently become painfully evident to her how much she was attracted to Jane, how much she wanted to run her hand through those curls, feel those lips against her own, and hear that voice whisper sweet-nothings into her ear at night. She had her reasons for not acting on those impulses, but suddenly she felt like kicking herself. Why had her attempt to practice lying extended to being dishonest with Angela about her feelings for Jane? How could she have treated something so potentially life-changing with such relative apathy?

Part of it, she realized, was the fact that she had not at all been expecting Angela to be so forward with her. She had been caught utterly off guard, and hated it. Now because of that one lie, Jane was going on a date with this woman. What if they really hit it off? What if they became a couple? What if Jane moved to D.C. to be with her? Maura tried to tell herself she was getting way ahead of things, here, but she couldn't help thinking _no matter what happens, it'll be because I told Angela to go ahead_. _If I had advised Jane not to do this, would she have listened to me?_

Possibly the only thing that could have taken her mind off this depressing track was what she saw when she turned to look out the hallway.

Camille Saroyan was standing between Booth and Jane, having just come down. They walked into the morgue, and Cam was saying, "…around 5:00 a.m. I was up anyway, so I figured I might as well just head on over, and—" She cut off abruptly at the sight of Maura, who was giving her a similar look of shock. "Dr. Isles?"

"Dr. Saroyan!"

"Wait, you two know each other?" Jane asked, glancing at Booth and seeing that he too seemed surprised by this.

"Yes!" said Cam, walking over and eagerly shaking Maura's hand. "Dr. Isles was the medical examiner for NYPD when I was a coroner over there! Oh my goodness, it's been _years!_"

"Wait, this is crazy," Jane laughed. "Which of you left first?"

"I did," said Maura. "I—needed a change of scene."

Cam chuckled and said, "I certainly feel that. I left shortly after you. Now look at us! Doing pretty well, aren't we?"

"Certainly are."

"Well it's a small medical, forensic criminology world after all, isn't it?" Jane asked, still bewildered. Her phone started buzzing, signaling a call from her boss. After a quick conversation with him, she told Booth, "That was Cavanaugh. He wants a word with me before Eden gets here. I'll call when I need you, all right? Fill Cam in on what we've done so far."

"Sure thing," Booth said, as Jane quickly headed out.

"We'll have to catch up some time," Maura said to Cam. "It's been too long. Unfortunately, this isn't an opportune moment, and I have some files that need reading…"

Cam smiled and held up a hand. "Of course! You work." Once Maura had reflected the grin and closed herself up in her office, Cam just shook her head and laughed. "Wow. I had no idea she was in Boston."

"I can't believe you know her."

"Weird, right? She's a sharp one, I'll tell you that. You know actually, Dr. Brennan reminded me a lot of her when I first came to the Jeffersonian."

"That's what Jane said!" Booth laughed. "Socially awkward and weirdly obsessive about random things?"

"Is that terrible?" Cam giggled. "We're terrible. I mean I know Dr. Isles is a medical examiner and Dr. Brennan does forensic anthropology, but for a while there I figured all extremely scientific people were just like that. But even once I got to know Dr. Brennan, I learned to differentiate her from Dr. Isles a bit more. Scientists don't all come in the same mold—naïve or empiricist, personable or blunt, uh…" Cam realized she was running out of differences between the two. "Gay or straight…"

"Yeah, I—wait. Gay?"

"Yes," Cam said casually, nodding at Maura's closed door. "Dr. Isles."

"Maura?"

"Yes…"

"You think Maura's gay?"

Looking surprised at his surprise, Cam said, "Well, if she's not attracted to women, I'd sure be interested to know why she spent the better part of a year dating Vivian Phillips."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Trying to decide if I want to shoehorn Angela and Hodgins into Thanksgiving with the Rizzoli's...hm. Anyway, reviews are love! Thanks for reading! :)


	12. Recoverings

**A/N**: I don't usually update this quickly, but I couldn't stop writing, and this has been such fun! Also I'm foreseeing a busy couple of days ahead, so I wanted to get this up while I could. Thanks for reading!

* * *

><p><em>"Hey Phillips, who's your new girl?"<em>

_ "Lay off, Carter, I mean it," Vivian said through her teeth, stealing an awkward glance at Dr. Isles and seeing the woman's confusion. Maura knew Vivian was gay, but had no idea of the desire that pulsed through Viv each time she saw the medical examiner._

_ "You into that?" asked the man named Carter, now having the audacity to address Maura directly. "You like when good old Officer Phillips puts her hands up your tight pussy?" _

_ Maura was alarmed, parttly by the vulgarity of this remark from a perfect stranger, but also by the violent manner in which Vivian had thrown herself off her bar stool, clearly about to go for Carter. Thinking fast, Maura quickly intervened, getting off her stool as well and grabbing one of Vivian's arms before the off-duty cop did something she would regret. Carter and Vivian shouted angry remarks at each other as Maura did her best to pull her imposing, strong co-worker out of the bar. Once they were outside, Maura loosened her grip, and Vivian jerked her arm away._

_ "Why the hell'd you do that, Maura?" she asked. _

_ "You were about to attack him!"_

_ "Of course I was! I should go back in there and kick his ass for saying something like that to you!" Vivian practically shouted, though she turned to start walking in the opposite direction. _

_ "He was drunk, Vivian," said Maura, hurrying to catch up._

_ "That doesn't matter!" Vivian said hotly, turning again to face Maura. "He's a sleazeball who has no business speaking to a lady like you, let alone making remarks like that about you!" _

_ "Are you offended that he insinuated we were in a sexual relationship?" Maura asked, wondering why she was worried that the answer might be yes. _

_ "No!" Vivian answered, a little too quickly. "He was crass and way out of line!" She took a moment to compose herself, sighing heavily and running a hand through her thin red hair. "Geez, Maura, I'm sorry. I like going there to unwind, but I don't know what I was thinking taking you to a place like that. I'm so sorry."_

_ Surveying her with curious eyes, Maura said, "Are you sure you don't know what you were thinking?"_

_ Vivian glanced up, her blue eyes meeting Maura's hazel ones, and catching in that moment a hint of reflected desire. Inspired in part by the alcohol she had just consumed, Vivian pulled Maura into an aggressive kiss. There had been too many months of quiet observation and silent study of Dr. Isles for Vivian to handle it anymore: the gentle bounce in that gorgeous hair, the impeccable taste in clothes that always made her look ready for a photo shoot, that adorable smile, and those playful eyes. It was entirely too much for Vivian to take, and tonight she was finally able to do what she had wanted for so long, harshly claiming those soft lips for her own. She felt a surge of desire rage through her as Maura started responding, her slender fingers threading through Vivian's short, fiery hair. She started walking Maura backwards, lifting a hand to shield the back of the doctor's head as she pushed her against the outer wall of the bar, still kissing her ferociously. _

_ When they pulled apart to breathe, Vivian's eyes shifted briefly to Maura's heaving chest, and the pent-up desire overflowed. She grabbed Maura's clothed breast, driving her tongue into the doctor's mouth at the same time, feeling gratified by the whimpering moan she got in return. Maura was not accustomed to be treated this way, especially not in a first kiss, but the fact that she'd been so caught off guard was what she found so arousing. Despite the cool night air, it somehow felt stifling out there on the street. _

_ They broke apart again, and Vivian rested her forehead against Maura's, shocked at how much that experience had risen above her expectations._

_ "Wow," was all the taciturn cop could think to say._

_ "Indeed," was Maura's response._

_ Vivian chuckled at the cute, Maura Isles-ian reply. "My place?"_

_ "Let's go." _

Sitting at her desk safely behind closed doors, Maura put her face in her hands at the memory. For the second time that day, she felt totally blindsided—first when Angela had asked about Jane, and now seeing Camille Saroyan out of the blue, here on Maura's turf. She was grateful that Cam was only stopping by, and wouldn't be hanging around to help with the case. It made it much less likely that she would mention Vivian to Jane, which was all Maura needed right now.

Little did she know what was going on just outside her office.

Naturally Cam had no comprehension of the magnitude of the bomb she had just dropped, and initially she didn't read too much into Booth's shocked expression: "I know it's kind of surprising, because well, Dr. Isles is so feminine, and there's such a stereotype about women who like other women, but…" As Booth's mouth continued to hang open while he stared at Cam in disbelief, it dawned on her that his surprise might go deeper than she thought. "Is… there something I'm missing here?"

"Maura…"

Cam glanced at Maura's closed door, then back at Booth, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, Seeley? Did I just crush a fantasy?"

Booth's mind was reeling, and he all but collapsed onto the stool right behind him. "No," he said after a long pause. "I mean, I like Maura, but I've only known her a few days. It's just…"

"Just what?"

"She never said anything. Cam, you gotta tell me more."

"Why are you so curious?" Cam asked, her brow contracting.

Knowing it would be wildly out of line to tell Cam the real reason for his interest, Booth fought to come up with a good answer: "Because …I—I'm fascinated. I mean, this is crazy that you guys used to be co-workers! And now she and I will be working together for a while, so it… it'd be a good idea to know more about her."

"I'm sure she wouldn't mind telling you all this herself," Cam said.

"Yeah, but she doesn't know me that well."

With a casual sigh, Cam shrugged and took a seat on the stool next to Booth. "To be honest, I don't know her all that well, either. Our paths barely crossed, even professionally; I didn't work as closely with her as I do with all you at the Jeffersonian. The only reason I really know her at all is that she started dating a cop I worked with quite a bit."

"This Vivian person."

"Vivian Phillips."

"Right. What was she like?"

"Viv? Oh, you know. She was kind of the strong, silent type. _Really_ smart, though; just real quiet about it. I think Maura liked that. I remember being surprised when they started dating, because Maura's so… warm and outgoing, and you barely knew where you stood with Vivian unless you got to know her really well."

"Cold in the streets, hot in the sheets, huh?" Booth asked.

Cam granted him a laugh. "Boy, I guess. If you got on her bad side, though, look out. We used to have a joke in the department about her temper coming from her red hair, but then she told me she was actually a natural blonde. She'd been dying it for years because of that dumb blonde stigma."

"Do you know why they broke up?" Booth asked, captivated.

With another shrug, Cam answered, "Not sure. Vivian and I worked together a lot, but she wasn't really into the whole disclosing-personal-information thing, if she could help it." She frowned and narrowed her eyes, staring once again at Maura's door. "Come to think of it, I didn't even know they'd broken up until Maura left for Boston. I asked Vivian how she felt about it, and she said they were done." Cam turned back to Booth, her eyes wide. "Do you think that's why Maura left?"

It was Booth's turn to shrug after giving Cam an incredulous look. "How would I know? Could've been a contributing factor though, right?" After a short pause and more internal debating, Booth said, "Jane… doesn't know."

"About Vivian?"

"About Maura ever being with a woman. She told me Maura's straight."

"Huh," was all Cam said. "I may have jumped to conclusions, then. Maybe Maura is actually bisexual, or maybe it was ...an experiment?"

"Yeah, maybe." The more Booth thought about it, the more uncomfortable he got with this conversation. It was crazy enough that Cam and Maura knew each other, but then for Cam to so casually bring up Maura's affair with another woman was just unbelievable. Obviously Maura hadn't cared about people in New York knowing about her attraction to women, so why hadn't she bothered to tell anyone at BPD?

Both of them jumped when Maura suddenly reemerged from her office, studying one of the case files. "Agent Booth, I—"

"Oh, look, Jane's calling me!" Booth said, truly believing that God was delivering on a solid by giving him this legitimate excuse to get away. It was actually a text, and after looking at it, Booth hastily made for the door and said, "I gotta go, Cam, sorry—have Maura tell you what she knows so far!" His heart was hammering, and he wasn't totally sure why, unless he was still overwhelmed on Jane's behalf. She had asked him to meet her outside the interrogation room, and once he did, he found himself pitying her in all her innocence and ignorance regarding Maura. "What'd Cavanaugh want to see you about?" he asked, trying (and succeeding) to mask his concern.

Jane waved a manila folder. "He found something on Alicia that he wants us to ask Eden about. Oh, and he also wanted to tell you that if you want, you're welcome to our department's Thanksgiving 'shin-dig' tomorrow, as he put it."

"Great, I'll think about it," Booth said distractedly, motioning for Jane to open the door. "But let's do some work, huh?"

"Right, let's do it." They walked into the room, where Eden was waiting patiently for them. This was the first time they had seen her in something besides her running clothes, and she cleaned up very nicely. Once the obligatory greetings were out of the way and they'd all sat down, Jane said, "I'm going to get right to it, Eden. Is there anything about your relationship with Alicia Howard that you've left out?"

Eden looked at Booth, as if hoping he would provide her with the answer Jane was looking for. "No ma'am, detective. She's my best friend, I told you that."

"And that's _all_?" Jane pressed her.

Comprehension dawned on Eden's features, and she sat back in her chair with a quiet groan. "Gross. Who told you otherwise?"

"Your ex-fiancé intimated that it was why you broke up," Jane said. She opened her folder and pulled out a sheet Frost had printed out earlier. Tossing it across the table to Eden, she said, "We found this earlier this morning. It's from your school newspaper. Apparently you and Alicia wanted to start at a GSA last semester at your religious school?"

Barely sparing a glance for the article she'd already examined several times, Eden said, "Yes ma'am, we did. Something like that."

"And then you and Brock both say that Alicia convinced you to break off your engagement," Jane said. "Can you understand why we might have come to this conclusion, especially considering Brock's other comment?"

"I can't believe he said that," Eden half-laughed. "Brock's the—Brock must be scared, that's why he told you that. He knows Alicia and I were never more than good friends. I'm not a deviant, detective!"

Jane bit her cheek and leaned back. "Well maybe you wouldn't mind explaining to _this _deviant why you wanted to start such a club, then."

Eden looked instantly regretful at her choice of words, and with a heavy sigh, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. It took her a while to find the picture she wanted, to the point that Jane almost asked her to put it away, but then Eden held the phone up so Booth and Jane could see it. "This is my cousin, Derek. We have the same birthday, or we did, anyway. He killed himself last year. He killed himself because he was gay and he had nobody to talk to about it. People at church told him gays were damned, and his family, his immediate family, wasn't much better. _I_ wasn't much better. None of us knew he was gay until we read it in the note he left, and I started thinking …I thought of all the stupid things I'd said. Nothing _damn_ing, but incredibly just, dumb and careless stuff. Mean. See? I even screwed up again, right now. I am _so_ sorry, Detective Rizzoli."

"So this club…?" Booth asked.

"It was going to meet off campus. It was Alicia's idea, when I told her about Derek and how awful I felt about it. She thought religious people needed to learn how to talk about homosexuality in a civilized, kind way. Church isn't supposed to be about hate. It's supposed to be about love and compassion. I don't pretend to fully understand proclivities like Derek's, but… I want to. I want to learn the right language and the right spirit. We hoped this club could help other people too, like, I don't know, a sort of sensitivity training, I guess."

Jane exchanged a look with Booth, who said, "Can you tell us exactly why your engagement with Brock got called off?"

"Is it relevant to the case, Agent Booth?"

"If you have no reason to believe Brock genuinely thought you were involved with Alicia, then he was evading something. We're not asking if you thought he _killed_ Alicia. But we need to know if there's anything he was angry at her for—besides having a hand in your engagement getting called off. If you withhold anything from us…"

Eden pursed her lips together tightly and fidgeted. She felt so terrible for inadvertently insulting Jane that she couldn't bring herself to look at her, so she instead stayed focused on Booth when she gave her reply: "Do you promise not to tell his parents?"

"You said he was doing nothing illegal?"

"That's right."

"Okay then, we won't." _Unless we have to_.

"And—you won't tell him I told you?"

"We might have to do that, Eden."

She rubbed her arm, looking painfully torn. It killed her to have to rat out Brock, who she didn't blame for feeling insecure and lashing out at her. But if it would help solve her best friend's murder… "Alicia borrowed his computer once, and she found pornography on it."

"Is that all?" Jane snorted. "That's why you broke up with him?"

Her flippant tone earned her an incredulous look from Eden. "Detective, one of the major tenets of my religion is the sacredness of the human body and chastity. I feel no shame in saying that I think pornography is absolutely disgusting. If that had been all, we could've maybe worked through it. He could have repented and moved on. But…" She looked back at Booth, and impressively, this was the first time it sounded like she might start crying. "It was gay porn."

"And that's unforgivable?" Jane pressed her.

"Detective," Eden said, trying not to lose her temper. "That's not it. You saw this article." She pushed the sheet back across the table at Jane. "You didn't see the letters to the editor, calling for my and Alicia's expulsion, our excommunication, even! People are so cruel and misunderstanding about it that Brock was ready to marry me as an attempt to cure his homosexuality. He denied at first that the porn was his, but he finally admitted it because I wouldn't let it go. We grew up together, me and Brock. I've known and loved him for a long time. When I wanted to start this club thing with Alicia, he thought it meant I could cure him."

"Do you think there's a cure?" Booth asked.

"I don't know, sir," Eden sighed. "But I really don't think marrying me would have solved anything. Do you? Brock's scared, I know, but… what if Alicia had never found out? What if she hadn't told me? I'd have married a man who—who I wouldn't ever be able to satisfy. Who knows what could have become of us?"

Naturally, Booth and Jane could both wager a guess as to exactly how that might've felt. Booth seemed almost cowed by the spew of rhetorical questions, never having guessed that he'd have something so specific in common with a college-aged Mormon girl. Jane picked up the slack for him: "So you got some angry letters about this club."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Did either of you ever get any death threats?"

Eden shook her head. "No, ma'am. Nothing that extreme."

"Do you still have them, the letters? Do you have any names?"

"I didn't keep them, but some of them are probably still on the school paper's website. A few people sent me messages on facebook, but I deleted them."

"We may have ways of accessing those if we need them," Jane said curtly, opening the folder again. "One more thing. The Howards are Democrats."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Did Alicia become more conservative out there in school with you?"

Eden made a point of picking up her bag and dropping it on the table. A large Obama button was in plain view, and she said, "We talked a lot about politics, naturally. We both grew up feeling marginalized because we came from religious families that are Democratic on _most _topics. There's only one issue I know of that Alicia changed her stance on after her conversion."

"Abortion," Jane offered, showing Eden a small clipping Cavanaugh had given her.

"That's right, ma'am."

"One of Howard's major initiatives," Jane explained to Booth. "He's for it and Alicia was apparently vehemently opposed."

"Abortion is murder," Eden said flatly.

"You don't think it's a woman's choice?" Jane couldn't help asking.

"I certainly do, ma'am. Unless she was raped, she already made her choice."

This answer caught Jane off guard, and curious though she was to continue the conversation in this vein, she knew it would be getting a tad too off topic. Trying to bring things back around a bit, she said, "We know Howard has Presidential aspirations. According to this article, his daughter was ready to launch a local campaign against his stance on abortion, and it could've easily gone national if she'd had the time to really get it going. Do you think Frederick Howard is the kind of man who would put political ambition above his family?"

Before Jane had even finished the question, Eden was shaking her head in disbelief. "No, ma'am, oh no. Senator Howard loves his family. His children are very important to him, and I—I hate that you even need to ask."

Jane looked at Booth, then said, "Well. I think that's all for today then, Eden. Thank you for coming in."

Looking slightly dazed, Eden picked up her bag and got to her feet. "I don't mind, ma'am, really I don't. I want to do anything I can to help you guys. Otherwise the bad guy has it too easy. The only thing evil needs in order to prevail is for good men to stand around and do nothing."

"That was…eloquent," Booth said.

Eden shrugged and snorted a laugh. "Yeah, it's a quote from somewhere." She hesitated by the door, then said, "Detective Rizzoli? Can I have a word with you?"

"Uh, sure," Jane said, nodding at Booth to let him know it was all right.

Once Booth had walked away, Eden said, "I really do want to apologize for what I said. I don't—I mean, I don't want you to think that _I _think any less of you for your, uh, orientation. I understand that you were born with those feelings. I may not …well, it doesn't really matter what else I think. I just want you to know that I have so much respect for you and the work that you do. Anyone who ever calls you wicked is an ignorant fool, and I'm trying so hard to become less of one. I'm a… recovering homophobe, if you will. Gosh, I hate that word, sorry."

"Thanks, Eden. I appreciate it."

She smiled ruefully. "Anyway, I'll call you when we have a date for that service …it may not be until after Thanksgiving. Or it could be the day after tomorrow; whichever way would work for the most people. Today we're activating the Carlisle family phone tree—nine kids, so many cell phones!"

Jane smiled. "Right, just keep us posted. Do you know the way out?"

"Yes ma'am, I do. Goodbye."

"Bye…" She caught Booth's eye, and he followed her back to the elevator.

"What was that about?"

"She just wanted to apologize for calling me a deviant. Guess that was nice."

"Considering she didn't have to, yes. Do they have a date set for the memorial service yet?"

"No, she's gonna call me when they do. By the way, how did Maura warm up to the undercover idea?"

"Well, she was a little hesitant at first, but she seemed to have come around to it."

"Oh, right, she mentioned that… yeah, I know I said she sucks at lying, but I just remembered this one time we—where's the damn elevator?—there was this auto-mechanic fixing my mom's car, and he would _not _stop hitting on Maura. Like it was just getting gross. Finally it got to be too much for her, and we were at his shop, and she suddenly wanted me to pretend to be her girlfriend."

An hour ago this might have been merely funny to Booth, but after Cam's revelation, he was a bit startled. "What'd you do?"

"Nothing really," Jane said casually. I just put my arms around her, from behind, you know. Told Giovanni to back off in so many words."

The elevator finally arrived, and they stepped inside. "Was that when you liked her?"

"I've always liked her," Jane said softly.

Booth couldn't think of a good response to this, so he bravely attempted to change the subject: "Anyway…you going to this party tomorrow?"

"The policeman's ball? Yeah, I actually asked Angela if she'd go with me."

Booth punched her in the arm. "What! No way, what'd she say?"

Jane grinned at his enthusiasm. "I don't know yet. I called and left her that message she asked for, so…"

"Wow. She is going to listen the hell out of that thing."

"I just hope she says yes," Jane admitted as they exited the elevator. Frankie came running happily over, saying nothing but high-fiving his sister on his way into the elevator. "Looks like Frankie's getting his wish. Dr. Saroyan, what're you doing out here?"

Cam was standing a little further down the hallway. "I just had the sort-of pleasure of meeting your brother, detective. It seemed like he had something personal to ask Dr. Isles, so I made myself scarce."

"By…standing awkwardly in the hallway right outside the glass doors?" Booth asked.

"Nobody asked you, Seeley."

Maura appeared just then: "Oh good, you're back! Agent Booth, I've already filled in Dr. Saroyan on most of our forensic findings. Now would be a good time for you to talk more about what you and Jane have found. Jane? Could I have a word?"

"Uh, sure," said Jane, following Maura back into her office. "What's up?"

Closing the door behind them, Maura said, "Frankie just asked me to go to the policeman's ball with him."

"I know," Jane said. "I saw him a minute ago, and he was smiling like crazy."

"You knew he was going to ask me?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't care?"

"Well…no…am I supposed to?"

"Why doesn't it matter to you if I go to this thing with Frankie, but you—wig out every time Tommy is near me?"

"…did you just say 'wig out?'"

"Jane."

"I'm sorry, I just don't think I've heard that since _Buffy_."

"Since what?"

"Come on, really? Buffy the vamp—okay, never mind. Sorry—why are you upset, again?"

"I'm not _upset_," Maura sighed, sitting down. "I'm just a little confused. You are always sensitive whenever I mention Tommy saying something nice to me, or whenever I try to do something nice to him. Like that kiss on his birthday. It was just a kiss. But you tell Frankie to just go on ahead and take me as his date to the department's party?"

"He's only taking you as a friend, isn't he?" Jane asked.

"Well, yes, but—"

"Then there you go."

"So because one of your brothers happens to have a very understandable attraction to me, I can't spend time with him?"

"Hey, I never told you not to spend time with Tommy—"

"The hell you didn't!"

Maura was not one to use even light swear words frivolously, and Jane could feel her body preparing itself as if for a physical attack. "I asked you not to get involved with him. Tommy's not good enough for you, Maura, and you haven't heard the way he talks about you. He doesn't respect you."

"That's for me to decide, if I ever want to find out," Maura said acidly.

"Frankie's a nice boy, Maura, and he's not going to try anything with you."

"So you don't want me hanging around with Tommy because you're afraid he'd try something? Do you want me to live in celibacy, and only go on dates with men if they make it a point to fervently express the fact that they view me as nothing more than a friend?"

"No, Maura, I just—why are we fighting?"

"We're not fighting!" Maura insisted, rising angrily to her feet. When Jane raised her eyebrows at this, Maura sighed and folded her arms. "I apologize, Jane. It was very uncouth of me to spring at you like that. I suppose I was a bit taken off guard by Frankie's proposal, and it's just been a… day of surprises. Not all of them good ones."

Frowning, Jane took a step closer to the desk that separated her and Maura. "What's going on?"

Maura shook her head. "Nothing I can't handle. It's just… Dr. Saroyan's presence brought up some memories."

Jane was now very prepared to do what her mother used to call "active listening." Maura had hardly ever spoken about her time working in New York, and Jane wasn't sure why. It wasn't usually in Maura's nature to share things out of the blue, and since Jane had never asked that much about it, the NYPD just never came up. If she was hoping Maura would spill now, though, Jane was about to be disappointed.

"I won't get into it now," Maura said. "But what about you, are you going tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I think I might," Jane said. "I asked Angela if she'd go with me, since I don't think I'm going to make it out of here tonight."

"Oh," Maura said softly. "Well that's nice. That'll be…nice."

Jane shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I guess it will, if she says yes."

"She'll say yes," Maura said with a weak smile, walking back to the door of her office. When she opened it, it was to see the morgue considerably more crowded than she'd left it: Brennan, Hodgins, and Angela had returned, and were catching up with Cam. "Oh! Hello again, everyone," said Maura.

Jane stepped out as well, and immediately caught Angela's eyes. "Hey, Angela. Did you uh, get my message?"

"I sure did," she answered with a smile.

Booth leaned in closer to Cam and whispered, "Okay, now watch this," through his teeth.

"And I'd love to go with you," Angela said.

"Fantastic," said Jane, looking genuinely pleased.

"Oh my," Cam whispered back to Booth, looking from Angela to Jane to a clearly less-than-thrilled Maura. "Oh my, indeed."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Thank you for reviewing, they are so very greatly appreciated/adored/loved. I really am enjoying writing this even more than I thought I would, and I am also grateful that everyone's mostly on board for the Jane/Angela-ness to spark things up for Rizzles. :)


	13. Russian Roulette

**A/N**: Thank you all for indulging me in my Rizzles drama. There is tons more to come.

Sometime quite later that night, Jane was still at work and happy for the distraction when her cell phone rang, even if it was signaling a call from her trouble-making little brother. "Hey bro, what's up?"

"Why the hell are you letting Frankie take Maura to that dance?"

"Hi to you, too…"

"I'm serious, Jane!"

"What? Gina Maggione cancelled on him last minute, and he wanted somebody to go with."

"Well why aren't _you _taking her?"

"Why…oh." It seemed like weeks ago that Tommy had seen Jane come out of Maura's bedroom one morning, and Jane had let him jump to conclusions. Poor guy was still confused. "Tommy, I appreciate your concern, but Maura and I aren't together."

"So you just slept with her that one time, then?"

"We didn't have sex," Jane said flatly, not particularly fond of discussing this area of her life with her brother. But she'd brought it on herself, so it was time to have it out. "We were just sharing the bed, because…" _I'm five years old and had a nightmare_. "Because the couch was killing my back. I was just giving you a hard time when I told you it was something more, Tommy, I'm sorry." There was silence on the line, as if Tommy was debating whether or not to rip into her. Hoping to dissuade him if that was the plan, Jane added, "It was nice of you to call up though, and try and set us straight."

"Yeah well…" He sounded confused. "I just thought—you know, if you were with Maura, you should be _with _her."

"I thought you liked her."

"I do, but I understand she's your best friend. I've been being kind of a jerk about the whole thing."

This was an uncharacteristically quick change of, well, character. "Uh… thanks, Tommy. Sorry if I was hard on you about it. I just…"

"Maura deserves better than me, I know."

"Hey, don't say that," Jane found herself saying, in spite of the fact that she was in actual agreement with him. It just sounded so pathetic actually coming from him.

"I'm not saying it for your pity, I'm saying it cause it's true. I'm a screw-up, Jane. Sure I'm good at chess, but I'm not smart enough for her. I'm not educated or fancy enough or anything like that."

"Well when you put it that way, is anyone?" Jane asked, trying to bring in some lightness. _Booth, maybe_. This put a slightly glum spin on her attempt to lighten up the conversation, but before she could linger on it too much, she realized she had another call. "Tommy, I gotta go—business is on the other line."

"Oh. Okay. Uh, see you later then, I guess…"

"Right. Bye."

Eden was calling to tell Jane that they had scheduled Alicia's memorial service for the evening after next, which was the night before Thanksgiving. Granted it wasn't ideal, it gave the Carlisles a day to plan and would allow at least one person from most of the families in their congregation to attend. Jane said this would work fine, and also explained their plan for Booth and Maura to go undercover.

"I know you haven't yet had the pleasure of meeting Dr. Isles, but I assure you she's quite the unexpected expert on your religion, so we should be all right."

A tad wary of this plan, Eden gave Jane a few tips (the most helpful being her suggestion that Booth pretend to be her and Alicia's bishop from school), then hung up. Jane spared a glance for the clock—it was nearly ten. She and Frost had been busily investigating David Wilson, Senator Howard's main rival, and his family. Politics was an ugly business, second possibly only to her own profession in its grisly nature. It was disturbing enough to know that people were so twisted as to commit the disgusting crimes Jane encountered every day, but to imagine that America's leaders could be prone to doing them—or at least hiring them out—was a whole other level of horror. And, unfortunately, one that was not without precedent. Why do people suck?

While Jane pondered this unanswerable question about the human psyche, Booth found himself walking down to the morgue. Cam had left several hours ago, but her revelation about Maura had been plaguing Booth all day. He hadn't been sworn to secrecy, but definitely knew it wasn't his place to say anything about it to Jane. However, the temptation to confront Maura was hard to fight. The timing was terrible—they were supposed to go undercover as a married couple, and him holding this over her head would be a really terrible way to start their fake relationship. It would also probably make Thanksgiving at her house a bit awkward. Ultimately the problem was that Booth didn't know Maura well enough to gauge how she would respond if he tried to bring up the subject of her past non-hetero experience. Was Vivian the only woman she'd ever been with? If not, how many? Was she really not attracted to Jane at all? If she was, why hadn't she acted on it? How could she call herself Jane's best friend and never have mentioned the fact that she had been romantically involved with a woman at least once before?

Booth knocked on her office door. Maura had planned on leaving earlier, but had gotten caught up in some work that had unexpectedly fallen in her lap. Normally she didn't like to be distracted (unless it was Jane), but when she opened her door and saw Seeley Booth standing there, she found herself happy for the interruption.

"Good evening, Agent Booth," she said, opening the door a bit wider. "Won't you come in?"

"On one condition," he said, standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. "Stop calling me Agent Booth."

"But…that's your name, isn't it?"

"Booth's my name, yes. So you can call me that, or call me Seeley. You don't have to be so formal with the 'Agent' stuff."

"Right," Maura said. "Come on in then, Seeley."

He grinned at her. "That's more like it."

"What can I do for you?"

And she looked so sweet and unassuming that Booth couldn't bring himself to attack her. She must have her reasons for keeping her relationship with Vivian Phillips a secret, and it would be inappropriate to bring it up now. "I guess… I guess I was wondering if you could give me some advice."

"Something to do with the case?"

"Not quite, no," Booth said, sitting himself on the edge of her desk as she stood in front of him. "It's to do with Bones. Dr. Brennan, I mean." Well, _this _was awkward. He definitely hadn't intended to bring this up, but under Maura's honest (and now curious) gaze, Booth had scrambled for a reason other than Vivian to have come down to speak to Dr. Isles. "You two seem like you're cut out of a similar mold."

Maura chuckled at that. "Yes, I suppose that's true. Just like you and Jane."

"You think so?"

"Oh, yes. From what I've witnessed, your interactions with Dr. Brennan are very reminiscent of mine with Jane."

"Really."

"Yes. You sound surprised."

"Only because—" _Oh, what the hell. I might as well go there_. "Only because she and I act the way that we do because we're attracted to each other."

Maura wasn't sure why she was surprised. If her memory served her correctly, something about this had come up in their group discussion at the Dirty Robber a couple of nights previously. It just hadn't stuck out in her hazy, tipsy recollection until now. "Oh," was all she could muster for a moment. "Oh. Right. And she was hesitant to take your relationship past the realm of friends because she believes—most likely in all correctness—that you would want two different things out of it."

"Exactly."

"What precisely is it you wanted my advice on, Agent…Seeley? How best to proceed with her?"

This wasn't quite what Booth had planned on discussing, but he decided to just go with it as best he could. "Well, sort of. You know that party your department is throwing tomorrow night? Lieutenant Cavanaugh very kindly made it known that I was welcome to attend, but I got the impression that anyone who goes is expected to bring a uh, well, a date. I can't take Jane because she's going with Angela, and Bones is the only other person around who I know. How do I ask her to go with me without making it sound, I don't know …like a real date? Keep her from getting the wrong idea?"

It was an incredibly juvenile question that Booth knew he didn't even need to ask. Inviting Bones to come with him would be easy ("Want to go?" "Sure, why not?"). But he'd needed to come up with something to say to Maura, no matter how inane. Whatever response he'd been expecting, it certainly wasn't the one he got:

"Simple. You take me, instead."

"What?"

"Jane and Dr. Brennan aren't the only ones around here that you know," Maura said patiently. "You also know me, and you ought to get to know me better before Alicia's memorial service so that we can practice becoming a believable couple."

This had _definitely_ not been his intention. "But—but—aren't you going with Jane's brother?"

"Frankie came to me in a moment of desperation," Maura said. "He could take Dr. Brennan."

"But he asked _you_, though."

"Trust me, Seeley, he would be thrilled to take somebody else. If he went with Dr. Brennan, he could at least pretend it was a real date. He said he was happy to go with me, but the whole department knows who I am and that I would only be doing Frankie a favor by going with him. It would make him the happiest man on the force to be able to take a woman as beautiful and unrecognized as Dr. Brennan to this event. Have you already asked her to go with you?"

"Well—no, but—"

"All right then. I'll call Frankie and tell him the new plan."

Booth quickly stood up, stepping between Maura and where her cell phone lay on the desk. "Wait, Maura, don't you think we're sort of rushing into this?"

Puzzled by his hesitancy to go along with what she thought to be a rather brilliant idea, Maura said, "Are you uncomfortable with the notion of bringing me somewhere as your date? Do you find me unattractive?"

"What? Of course not. It just seems…like…" She waited patiently, but Booth was floundering, unable to give her a good reason as to why this might not be a great idea. He sighed heavily, stepping aside. "We should tell Jane, though."

"Why does everyone feel like they need to clear it with Jane before they can take me somewhere?" Maura burst out unexpectedly. "First Frankie, now you!"

"Whoa, Maura, I just…think she'd like to know about it before we all show up tomorrow."

Once she had calmed down, Maura quietly agreed, and Booth volunteered to go share the news. Maura had seemed very intent on this plan, and had offered to tell Jane herself, but Booth felt Jane would think it was a betrayal if she didn't hear it from him. So he traveled back upstairs while Maura called up Frankie with her proposal (and considering that he had met Brennan only once, he took it surprisingly well. She really would look good on his arm, and none of the guys would be able to tease him about not finding a date).

Jane turned around to see who had just joined her in her solitude, and smiled with relief upon seeing that it was Booth. "Hey, man. I think I'm just about ready to give in for the night." As he walked closer, his torn expression became more evident, and Jane frowned. "What's up, Booth?"

"I just had a really weird exchange with Maura," he said, awkwardly rubbing his neck and sitting down.

"How so?" Jane chuckled.

"Well she…she sort of invited—uh, she was really insistent that I go to this policeman's ball with her."

"What? She's going with Frankie."

"She wants Frankie to take Bones and me to go with her."

"But she…she…" Jane gulped, trying to calm her suddenly racing heartbeat. "What did you say?"

"Well, she didn't really give me a choice."

"What, did she hold you at gunpoint?" Jane asked, feeling a frightening and sudden urge to throw something heavy at Booth.

He'd been worried this might happen. "No, she was just very persistent! Jane, look, it's no big deal, all right? We're just going as friends. Besides, we thought it might help us get our undercover relationship down—it'll help if we know each other a little better, right?"

"How much better are you thinking, Booth?" Jane asked in a dangerously low voice, folding her arms.

"Whoa. Hey. That's low," Booth said darkly. "I would never do that to you, Jane. You were fine about letting Frankie take her as a friend, so why not me?"

"Because Frankie doesn't know how I feel about her!" Jane shot back. "_You _do, Booth, so if you take her, that'd be a real dick move!"

"Jane! Listen to yourself, you sound twelve!" Booth cried. "You are making this a way bigger deal than it needs to be, okay? Maura thought it'd give Frankie a real self-esteem boost if he could take someone like Bones to this party, because it wouldn't look like he'd had to scramble last minute to find anyone to go with him. And since that'd mean I couldn't take Bones, and I couldn't go with you because you're taking Angela, Maura volunteered to come _as a friend_. Not even a friend, a co-worker! I swear to God, Jane, I would never make a real move on her."

Jane still looked extremely cross, but she found herself unwillingly being drawn to Booth's side. She had been the victim of Maura's insane determination more times than she could count—_unzip me_—_we can do this the easy way, or the hard way—I was hoping you'd go to the installation with me. We can get in_. How could she be upset with Booth for falling prey to that same blind doggedness? Her frown remained, but looking into Booth's earnest eyes, she could see that the most important thing to him was keeping the peace.

"Okay," she mumbled softly, unfolding her arms. "Sorry I freaked out on you, Booth."

"That's all right," he said, relieved that she had rolled over so quickly. "You're totally justified. This is weird, I know."

"Nah, I mean, it's no big deal. It's just a party, right?"

"Right. You'd…I mean you'd be honest if it really did upset you though, right?"

Jane countered with her own question: "_You'd_ be honest if you were really attracted to her, right?"

"Yes, Jane," he said seriously. "I just figure, hey. If you can't take the person you'd really like to, why should I? Even if Bones and I went together, it wouldn't be the way I'd like it to."

"Well, you're assuming that just because I'm hung up on Maura, I can't be intrigued by someone else. Someone else who, incidentally, I know for a fact would be interested in actually being a real date."

**The Next Night…**

When Jane entered the lobby of Angela's hotel, she turned more heads than just her date's. Part of this could have been attributed to her full police officer's uniform (was the hotel being raided?), but a lot of it was due to the fact that for lack of a better phrase, she looked devastatingly hot. It seemed ironic to everyone on the force that even though the point of the annual party was to sort of let loose, Cavanaugh insisted all of his officers look the part. Jane's male co-workers usually hated it when she decided to attend these parties, because she inevitably wound up arousing the interest of their dates simply due to her appearance. She would still be a knock-out in a dress or her typical suit, but there was just something about the combination of her girlish ponytail and heavily masculine uniform that made theretofore straight women swoon.

Indeed, all Angela could come up with to say was, "Are you real?"

"Very," Jane assured her in the most husky voice she could muster. Offering Angela her arm, she said, "You look quite ravishing yourself there, Ms. Montenegro."

"Why thank you," Angela said, taking Jane's arm and following her lead back outside. She wore a deep red dress that contrasted nicely not only with her skin but with the dark navy color of Jane's uniform, and a long black coat to protect her against the cold November night air. Noticing the hat tucked under Jane's arm, Angela asked, "Are you going to put that hat on when we get outside?"

"Well, it would be rude to wear it indoors," Jane replied, backing against the hotel's front door and holding it open for Angela. "If you really want me to, I guess I could wear it during the walk to the car. The problem is it sits kind of funny on my ponytail."

Angela gently took the hat from Jane's hand, and tried positioning it on the woman's head. "What if you tilted it just a bit, like…oh, yeah. Right there. Boom." That eased Jane's nerves enough to allow her to laugh as Angela needlessly straightened her tie. "God, you're sexy."

Jane fully intended to reflect the comment, but the words stuck in her throat. She found herself staring at this gorgeous woman's lips, and suddenly she was kissing them. Seeing as how it hadn't been planned, she couldn't truthfully say she had intended for it to remain short, but Jane had to admit she was pleasantly surprised that the kiss was going on for so long. Her hands were resting on the small of Angela's back, and Angela had responded by lifting her arms up and around Jane's neck, pulling her closer. They were standing on the sidewalk in front of the hotel, admittedly not the most private of places, but they weren't doing anything particularly scandalous …yet.

"God," Angela breathed when they finally broke apart. "How badly do you awnt to go to this party?"

"Oh," Jane said in a shuddering breath, feeling uncomfortably weak at the knees. "Everyone's expecting me to be there …I haven't been to one in years…"

"Why not?"

"Never had someone I wanted to go with."

"You want to go with me?" Angela asked, feeling severely gratified when Jane could only nod and unconsciously lick her lips. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay here with me?"

"Oh God, don't make me choose," Jane moaned, kissing her again.

_Lord_, this felt good. It had been months since Jane had kissed someone, and God knew how long it since she'd been kissed like this. Without being forceful and even without tongue, Angela was not holding back or hesitant in any way. Her attraction to Jane was obvious and unimpeded in her kiss, and her desire made Jane feel indescribably sexy. Something inside of her was being stirred up, driving her to want more and to be more. As she felt Angela's fingers weaving into her hair and threatening to pull it out of its tie, Jane knew she had to make a decision and fast.

"Wait, wait," she murmured, pulling away slightly. They were both flushed and breathing heavily, and Jane had to force herself to maintain eye contact as she continued: "You're right, I'm supposed to be the gentleman, here, so I should make the right choice. Let's go to the party. At least for a little while. That way, I, uh…" _I can catch my breath_. "That way I could feel a little better about this. I mean, if we at least had one date under our belt before, uh…"

"Before I undo yours?" Angela suggested. "Oh, come on," she laughed good-naturedly as Jane just shook her head. "You so set me up for that one!"

"Yeah, I guess I did," Jane admitted, taking a step back and holding out her hand. Angela took it, and they restarted their journey to Jane's car. "Let's see if you're still interested in pursuing anything with me after you've actually spent real time with me."

"Honey, I don't think there's a thing you could do or say that would turn me off."

"Hm…what if I said I hated Constance Isles' art?"

"Nope."

"If I made Elaine from _Seinfeld_ look like a good dancer?"

"Not even that."

"If I told you I'd vote for Sarah Palin if she ever ran for President?"

"I'm sorry, are you _trying _to make me stop liking you?" Angela laughed, stopping outside of Jane's car.

Jane just smiled, opening Angela's door and giving her one short kiss. "Of course not. Just teasin' ya."

"Good," Angela said, getting in. She waited until Jane had walked around the car and gotten in as well before adding, "That woman makes my flesh crawl."

"Brr. That _word _makes my skin crawl," Jane said with a shiver.

"What word?" Angela asked, as Jane started driving.

"Flesh. Ugh! Gross."

"You don't like flesh?"

"Stop saying it!" Jane laughed. "I like it, like the thing, I just don't like the word. I can't explain it. I just hate the way it sounds, especially when _I _try to say it."

"Any other word aversions I should know about?"

Jane took a deep breath, steadying herself for the unpleasantness of saying these words she so desperately, inexplicably hated: "Panties, moist, ointment, and vaginal."

"Vaginal?"

"Yeah, I don't know why that one really gets to me and vagina doesn't."

"This is a really weird conversation for a first date…"

"Sorry. It is."

"I just find it very interesting that most of those words you hate are associated with things I'm guessing you really like," Angela said.

Jane snorted a laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure there's some Freudian, psychological mumbo-jumbo Maura would be willing to throw at me for that."

"So, just to make sure…it would be a huge turn-off for you if I just came out and said, Jane, I want you to pull down my panties because I think your fingers would be the perfect ointment for the flesh of my achingly moist, vaginal walls?"

It didn't matter that it was an honest proposal, because the only reason Angela had really said it was to push all of Jane's buttons at once. She laughed at the snarky response it got her: "All I can say is that you're lucky I can't drive and shoot your mouth at the same time."


	14. Let the Games Begin

_Your best friend likes her. Your best friend likes her. Your best friend likes her. Your best friend is __in__ love__ with her. This. Is. Not. A. Date. This was a horrible idea. How did I let Maura talk me into this?_

Not a good sign. Booth had only just reached Maura's house, and was already running this mantra through his head. Of course Maura had always looked beautiful—even in a lab coat and scrubs—but there was something about her tonight that really struck Booth. Maybe it was because she was dressed this way for him, and that way was disarmingly sexy: a tight, champagne-colored dress flattered every curve of her body, stopping just short enough to show off the legs that were more fantastic than any doctor had a right to possess. Black stockings protected her legs from the cool air, coming to an abrupt end in a pair of crimson, three-inch heels. Her magnificent golden hair was swept mostly up, excepting for a pseudo-ponytail she allowed to rest over her shoulder.

"You're speechless, Agent Booth," she said, standing in the doorway. "Do you think I'm dressed inappropriately for the party?"

"I—no, no, I don't think so," Booth stammered, so unnerved that he forgot to ask Maura to call him by his first name. He was dressed in a simple suit and tie, not looking much different from his regular work attire. "I mean, I've never been to one of these parties, so who am I to…"

He drifted off awkwardly, and Maura just grabbed her jacket and smiled at him. Shutting the door behind her, she said, "My mother used to tell me that I should always wear clothes that were tight enough to let people know I was a woman, but loose enough to remain a lady."

"That's…nice," Booth choked out, meaning it but not knowing how to rightly convey it. When they reached his car, he stepped quickly in front of Maura to get the door for her, not sure why that urge had descended upon him so fast. He didn't usually get doors for women, especially not Bones …but somehow with Maura, it felt warranted.

Once he'd gotten in the car as well, he started backing out of the driveway and trying desperately to think of a good conversation topic. "So! Uh, the memorial thing for Alicia is tomorrow night. Have you thought at all about—uh, how we should…"

"My lying is improving, but I still think that if possible, you may just want to pretend your last name is Isles," Maura said. "It'll give me one less thing to worry about giving away."

"Your lying is improving?" Booth asked, grinning. "Have you tested it out?"

Maura did not return the grin, and couldn't even bring herself to chuckle. "Yes. I think it worked quite successfully. But the person left shortly afterwards, and I nearly vomited into the bathroom sink."

"Ah. So you need some more practice. Okay, tell me two truths and a lie."

"What?"

"It's a game I used to play as a kid, a sort of get-to-know-you game. You tell two truths and then a lie about yourself, and everyone has to guess which one is the lie. I still don't know you very well, so this is your chance to make up something totally outrageous and try to make me guess. Just don't be too obvious, and don't make your truths something that I already know."

"Okay…" After thinking about it long and hard, Maura said, "Two truths, one lie… I have never broken a bone. I once drove a caravan with a hitchhiking cheetah on top of it." She needed one more truth. "And I… I asked Jane to pretend to be my girlfriend once."

Booth raised his eyebrows, already knowing the last one was a fact. "Well, well. Okay. I'm gonna say the lie is that …you have never broken a bone."

"Nope," Maura laughed, pleased at stumping him. "That one's a truth!"

"Ah, dammit!" Booth said good-naturedly. "I should've known that cheetah story was too ridiculous to be true! You just seem like the kind of person who might've gone to Africa on some humanitarian trip or something."

"I have," Maura said gleefully. "But it was a wild jackal that was on top of the caravan. Not a cheetah." It dawned on her then that it seemed Booth had assumed it was true that she'd have once asked Jane to pretend to be her girlfriend. Why did he find that so easy to believe? Had she given something away, made a careless mistake in admitting that to him?

Before she could freak out any more about it (her heart was beating alarmingly fast), Booth broke into her thoughts: "Of course, that's different than if someone asked you a straight question, right? You have a harder time lying?" He glanced over and saw Maura nod. _Have you ever been with a woman?_ _If Jane made a serious move on you, would you accept it? _"Well… you probably won't have to worry about it too much tomorrow. I'll do the introducing—'hi, I'm Seeley B… Isles, and this is my wife, Maura. I was Alicia and Eden's bishop when they were at school, blah, blah, blah.' You might not even get asked any questions you'd have to lie about. Tell them what you know about Alicia, that she was a nice kid. Help me out with any, uh, denominational differences I might struggle to understand. You know. That kind of thing."

"Right," Maura sighed, not really listening. "Had Frankie picked up Dr. Brennan before you left?"

She couldn't help but notice that Booth's jaw tightened at the question. "Yup. Nice kid, that Frankie. Really. Bones thinks he's adorable."

"She said that?"

"Ah, well, yeah. His manner, she meant. I think." He frowned.

"Don't let it get you down, Agent Booth. Seeley. Frankie is a good man, and he won't do anything out of line."

Booth snorted. "Oh, I actually do believe that, Maura. It's Bones I wouldn't be so sure about. I mean, you've talked to her, you know she's not exactly squeamish when it comes to talking about sex, so she's not a prude when it… uh, when it comes down to it, you know?" He spared a glance for Maura, who appeared as if she was wondering whether this was something Booth ought to be telling her. "Don't worry," he snorted. "I'm not saying anything Bones wouldn't tell you herself."

"Right," Maura said softly. "Does her openness with sexuality bother you?"

"What? Oh, you mean her…" Booth shrugged. "It's just not—I mean, we approach that very differently."

"Yes, I got that impression. Jane told me she learned that behavior from you. She really respects the way you treat women, and she's tried to imitate it. You know, Booth, Jane really, _really _thinks highly of you. I can't tell you how wonderful it's been to finally meet you at last."

She was looking at him full on, but Booth couldn't bring himself to take his eyes off the road. He merely gulped and said, "Uh, thanks. Jane thinks highly of you, too, Maura." _Very highly_. "I know she's not always the best at showing it, but uh, she really appreciates you a lot."

"I hope she has fun tonight," Maura sighed, looking out the window. "She hasn't been to one of these parties in ages." In a lightly strangled tone, she added, "It was certainly fortuitous that Angela came along. They seem to really like each other."

That was an understatement. Sitting in her car in the venue's parking lot, Jane and her date were currently engaged in another heated game of tonsil hockey. It had started with the old "I-can't-unbuckle-my-seatbelt" trick, which Jane really thought _had _been a line until she remembered that the buckle in the passenger's seat of this car tended to get stuck quite frequently. As she struggled to help Angela undo it, Angela just smirked and asked if this was Jane's tactic with all the girls. "Why, is it working?" Jane snorted, not imagining that the sight of her embarrassing herself could possibly be a turn-on. But the artist had responded by ducking slightly and catching Jane's mouth in a quick kiss. Well, it had started quickly, anyway. Jane was almost alarmed by how aggressive she was becoming, and later wondered if it had to do with the months of sexual frustration that had been hovering over her, and tumbled out when faced by Angela's libido. They sprung apart only when the belt finally relinquished its hold on the buckle, effectively ending the moment.

"You may want to uh…" Jane stared at Angela, waving a finger in the direction of her own mouth. "Fix your lipstick."

"Oh, I don't know," Angela said, opening her bag and pulling out a small makeup kit. "I think it could be kind of fun to just go in there and see how long it takes for somebody to actually acknowledge it to my face."

"Fun idea in theory, but Brennan's going to be there, so I'd wager it'd be a pretty short game," Jane pointed out.

"Ha! Good point."

Jane had to look away when Angela started reapplying the lipstick, because it again made her look too freaking kissable. As long as they were alone out here in her car in the parking lot, temptation was going to be really difficult to fight. So the moment that Angela had snapped her bag shut again, Jane got out of the car and walked around it to open Angela's door. They walked towards the building arm in arm until Jane realized, "Oh, this seems super formal, sorry…" and reached for Angela's hand instead. It almost seemed to be in vain, though, because as soon as they were inside, Jane caught Cavanaugh's eye and excused herself to have a quick word with him.

Suffice it to say Angela was not left unattended for long. She had spotted Brennan and Frankie sitting at a table and was about to walk over when a short, unsightly man stepped in her way.

"Hello there," he said, knowing she was an unfamiliar face and thus must be a co-worker's date, but not really caring. "Haven't seen you around here before. My name's Crowe."

"Crowe," Angela said with a smile. "Pleasure."

"Oh, it will be," he said, shaking her hand with a rather disgusting grin.

Angela maintained the smile but narrowed her eyes, gently tugging her hand away. In a sweet voice, she said, "What a charmer. I'm Angela Montenegro. And in case you're wondering, no, I didn't stumble upon your party by chance. I happen to be here with someone from the _homicide_ department, so I'd watch my back if I were you."

"Homicide, huh?" Crowe asked apprehensively.

Just as he had dreaded, Jane walked over then, putting an arm smoothly around Angela's waist. "This creep bugging you, sweetheart?" Turning to her surly coworker, she sneered, "Buzz off, Crowe," but didn't give him the chance to leave first. She steered Angela over to the table with her brother and Brennan, apologizing profusely. "Sorry, Ange—I had to tell the Lieutenant something about the case, and didn't want to wait in case I forgot. Geez. Leave it to Crowe to take three seconds to find the prettiest girl here."

"Aw, Jane, you old softie," Angela said.

They had reached the table, and Frankie stood up to meet Jane's date. Shaking Angela's hand, he shot Jane a raised eyebrow and quietly impressed grin, which Jane just had to roll her eyes and chuckle at. "You two having fun?" she asked.

"Oh yes, it's been quite fascinating studying …I mean, speaking with your brother," Brennan said as Jane and Angela sat down. "I still hope to one day do a more conclusive study on the idiosyncrasies of and problems facing middle children. Also, he's been explaining to me the rigors of applying to become a detective! I had no idea it was so difficult, Detective Rizzoli."

"Yes, well, it's not exactly a science, but catching killers is pretty difficult work," Jane said, not unkindly. Nodding at their plates, she asked in a stage whisper, "How's the food?"

"I have to say it pales in comparison to that meal we had at your mother's house," Brennan said, "but it's decent."

"Did Stanley make it?" Jane asked Frankie.

He just laughed. "No way! You remember what Cavanaugh said after that first year—never again. They got catering from Sookie's."

"Ooh, that's good stuff," Jane said, standing up again. "Angela, can I get you a plate?"

"Oh, I'll come along," Angela said brightly, and they walked over to the buffet table together. Angela glanced back over her shoulder at her friend, amused at the highly interested expression on Brennan's face as she leaned in to restart her conversation with Frankie. "Wow. I have to say, I'm impressed that your brother's face hasn't been melted off by all of Brennan's questions yet."

Jane looked over as well, grinning. "Ah, I think it's a nice change of pace for Frankie. It's not that he goes after dumb girls, it's just that… well, he's not used to dating particularly intelligent ones. It's probably cool to him that Brennan's actually interested in him, and not intimidated or condescending."

"Aw, it's…kinda cute, don't you think?" Angela asked.

"Sure, I guess," Jane said with a smile.

As they started dishing up food, Angela gestured at the group of police officers surrounding them and asked, "So how'd you get interested in all of this? Becoming a cop, I mean. Was it something you always wanted to do?"

After giving it a few moments of thought, Jane said, "You know, I think it was. Growing up, we had a next-door neighbor who was a cop, and I thought he was the coolest guy around. I mean he had a cool car, and a uniform, and a gun…" She laughed nostalgically while also trying to juggle her plate and unwisely-filled glass. "My poor ma just wanted me to wear pretty dresses and play with dolls and do ballet, but… man. I saw Officer Hill, our neighbor, and just wanted to be like him. Carry a gun, protect people, wear a uniform so everyone knew I meant business."

"Did that influence your decision to join the army?"

"Yeah, I guess. I mean in high school, it became the cool thing to hate on cops, you know? All kids think they do is bust your parties and give you speeding tickets. The only way I could convince my parents to let me join in the army was to tell them it'd pay for school." She shrugged. "I didn't even go when I got back, not really. Just went to a junior college for two years and went back to my dream of being a cop." Talking about that didn't bother her, but she was afraid of any follow-up questions Angela might ask about her time in the army. In an attempt to change the subject, Jane made a big show out of trying to discern the difference between the two pasta plates in front of her, asking Angela for her opinion. Angela got the hint and happily went along.

As they walked back to their table, Jane got up the nerve to ask: "Have you uh, got any plans for Thanksgiving?"

"Sort of," Angela said, pretty sure that from Jane's tone, she wanted to invite her over. "My dad's got a really good friend who lives in Boston, they used to be in a band together. He's spending Thanksgiving with this guy's family, and since he knew Hodgins and I were going to be here, he asked us to come along."

"Oh, that's nice," Jane said earnestly. "That's really nice. Um…if you want, though, I mean—uh, you should definitely not cancel, but …if you wanted to come for dessert with us, that'd be really nice. If you wanted to, if you had time. You and Hodgins and your dad."

"That would be fun," Angela said, sounding sincere. "I'll talk to dad and Hodgins about it."

"Cool! Yeah, we're just getting together at Maura's house, since she has a bit more room in her place than my tiny apartment. And Booth and Brennan are coming, too. It's too bad her parents are still in Europe—I'm sure Constance would love to meet a fan."

"Shoot. I'll just have to send her a fan letter."

"I'm sure she'd love that."

Shortly after that'd sat back down and joined in Brennan and Frankie's conversation, one of Jane's few female co-workers flew over, kneeling next to her to whisper a quick question in her ear: "Who is that _hunk _with Maura?"

"She's with my friend Seeley," Jane laughed. "He's with the FBI; he's been helping us out with the Howard…"

Jane had turned to look at the doorway, which she correctly assumed Booth and Maura were now walking through. It amazed her that after all this time, all the gorgeous outfits she had seen Maura wear (and the various times she had seen her partially nude)—the woman could still make Jane speechless. She recovered very quickly, fast enough that nobody noticed she had even really been distracted, not knowing her heart had skipped a beat or two. Jane inwardly cursed herself, feeling like a jerk, a creep, for thinking something like that about Maura when she was here with another woman. A beautiful, witty, smart woman, to boot. _Don't be an ass, Rizzoli! _But if she was totally honest with herself, Jane couldn't help noticing what an attractive couple Booth and Maura made (an observation also made by her coworker, who resignedly left go find her husband again). They weren't the only ones—Brennan was also staring down the two of them, and Frankie and Angela were both warily keeping an eye on her.

"Hey guys," Booth said, not having detected any weirdness or discomfort. He threw himself into the seat next to Jane, casually putting an arm around the back of her chair. "So we got a look at the band they hired when we pulled up. Looks like it's going to be jazz."

Leaning back, Jane sighed dejectedly. "I don't know what it is about jazz, but I just don't think it sounds right without that scratchy, tinny background noise that comes with all those old records, you know?"

"Well, look at this way," Maura offered. "If you were to somehow go back in time and hear Glenn Miller or Tommy Dorsey play, they'd sound just as brash and clear as whoever's playing tonight."

"Fair point."

Once Booth and Maura had gotten and returned with their food, Angela said, "Maura, I'm really curious. What got you so interested in being a medical examiner? Your mother's so… artistic."

"That's true, she is," Maura said. "I suppose what first instigated my interest in science was an elementary school teacher I had, Mrs. Caldecott, who suggested I try out for the New England science fair. I wasn't particularly skilled yet at writing, or analyzing poetry, and certainly didn't have a penchant for music. And, much to my mother's everlasting disappointment, I possessed no artistic abilities whatsoever! Mrs. Caldecott had noticed I was very observant, and liked collecting data about various things."

"Such as which girls were more likely to wear barrettes or butterfly clips?" Jane teased her.

But, "Yes, actually," Maura said, not catching the joke. "So she helped me come up with an experiment on a _Lithobates catesbeiana _ I had dissected, and… wow. I was fascinated. I felt so powerful wielding that tiny scalpel, and I was so… so _captivated_ by the intricacies of this tiny creature's body." She calmly took a sip of ginger ale and stared at the table. "I actually think if anyone were to ask me at that party tomorrow—which they wouldn't, but… if somebody asked, I'd say that was the moment I first entertained the notion that there might be a God. I was only ten years old, so of course I still had much to study and discover, and I couldn't fully comprehend all the implications of biology, of physical life. I thought there had to be some sort of master creator, a God, who knew enough and knew everything to make such detailed, specific things as bodies, and make them work properly."

"So in ultimately joining the scientific community, you felt as though you were becoming a god?" Brennan asked.

"Oh no, no I would never say something like that," Maura hurriedly explained. "I do think there is a certain godlike power that many doctors have, but not doctors like me. I have to find a way to deal with the dead. Hm… maybe _that's_ a bit godlike in its own way, but not quite. I've tended to encounter people who think there isn't much use to studying medicine if you're not going to use your knowledge to save lives, like a surgeon, but …I've always felt more comfortable dealing with dead patients than live ones."

"Which is in no way creepy," Jane said. Maura flashed a dark look at her, perceiving sarcasm, but Jane said, "No, I mean it. You _do_ save lives, Maura, because you help us save cases. People like me and Booth? We're idiots."

"Morons," he agreed.

"Without you and Brennan and Angela, we'd be lost. Lives would be lost. "

"Don't underestimate your own importance, though," Maura said. "Science alone can't save the world. We don't possess the courage or the instincts or the strength to chase down a suspect."

"It's true," Brennan sighed. "Long ago I had to resign myself to the sometimes unpleasant notion that I _can't _do everything myself. Anthropologically speaking, in recent times, it has become typical for humans to believe they are supermen, that they can accomplish anything entirely on their own, independently of anyone else. I won't get into the semantics of it, but suffice it to say that teamwork yields the best results."

"In everything?" Booth pressed her.

"Well, I don't think I feel confident categorically saying _every_thing, but certainly in cases like ours."

"What about romance?" Booth challenged her, instantly putting everyone at the table slightly on edge. "Brennan, I think sometimes you've fallen into that trap of believing you're above it all, that you don't need anyone else in your life because you've got it all under control. You're letting pride or fear or ignorance get in the way of allowing another person inside. We weren't meant to go through this life alone. Our jobs—all our jobs—prove that."

A short but very heavy pause followed this proclamation, as everyone tried (and failed) not to look at Brennan for a reaction. Her expression made it seem as though she'd been caught off guard, but she smoothed it over quickly enough to look unfazed. "Booth, I think you're exaggerating."

"And you're avoiding," he said, getting to his feet. "'Scuse me for a minute, I need to have a word with Cavanaugh."

After he'd left, Brennan excused herself to find a bathroom, and Angela decided it would behoove her as Brennan's best friend to follow up. This left Maura and the Rizzoli's sitting alone at their table in the aftershock. Frankie leaned towards Jane and said, "So…so that was really awkward, right?"

"You think?" Jane sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Ugh, this is giving me a migraine."

"I have to say, I think Agent Booth is being a bit unfair," Maura said. "He's making love sound so simple when really, it's anything but."

"Let's face it, Jane," Frankie said. "You're the only one here with a real date."

"Yeah, but you knew that going in," Jane said. "I mean, you both knew that."

"Oh, I'm not complaining," Maura said lightly. "I just feel sorry that Seeley and Dr. Brennan can't seem to work this out."

"Sounds like you're simplifying," Jane pointed out, cuing a crooked smile and rueful laugh from Maura. "Frankie, I wouldn't worry about Brennan. I get the feeling that she doesn't let stuff like this ruffle her. We all think it's awkward, but it's just business as usual for her. Hell, she probably left right now because she actually _did _have to go to the bathroom." (Which, Angela learned, was in fact the case.) "Don't let it bum you out, little bro."

He just shrugged. "No big, if she's okay."

"Did you and Angela kiss?" Maura suddenly asked.

"What?" Jane and Frankie said in unison, eyebrows raised.

"Angela is wearing a very distinct shade of coral lipstick, and I detected there's a small smudge of it on the corner of your mouth," Maura said.

Jane groaned and grabbed a napkin. "Aw, geez…"

"Whoa! Sis!" Frankie laughed. "Nice job! How'd it happen?"

"That's none of your business, Frankie," Jane said darkly. "Keep out of this."

While Jane was scrambling to remain dignified and quiet about it, Angela was quite the opposite. In the restroom with Brennan, she raised an eyebrow as her anthropologist pal leaned in closer, staring at her lips.

"Hi, Temperance," she said slowly.

"Have you and Detective Rizzoli kissed?"

"What ever gave you that idea?"

"Your lips appear slightly swollen," Brennan said matter-of-factly, washing her hands. "It was hard to tell for sure out there, and heaven knows it isn't easy with the terrible lighting in _here_, but upon closer inspection, it seems to be the case."

"Hm. Well, you caught me," Angela chuckled. "I guess it couldn't be helped. She came to pick me up, and we were walking to her car, and she just _kissed _me. Right the hell outta nowhere."

"Well, technically you're on a date," Brennan pointed out. "So it may not have been exactly out of nowhere."

"Right, but I mean there was no lead-in to it. We weren't saying or doing anything that would have led me to expect it, but oh, I'm not complaining! She's a damn good kisser. Like, God help me if things go any further tonight."

"I don't know if the typical Christian depiction of God would be open to helping you in that manner," Brennan said, crossing Angela to get to the door."

"Thanks, dear."

Upon exiting the restroom, they found Booth standing patiently by the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "Bones, a word?" he asked, and Angela gave Brennan an encouraging pat on the back before walking back to their table. "Look, I'm sorry I kind of jumped at you at the table just now."

"It's fine, Booth, you have nothing to apologize for," Brennan said calmly.

"No, I do. It was totally out of line, and it was disrespectful."

"I think it may have been more disrespectful to Dr. Isles than to me. She _is _your date, after all."

"Yeah, but it's not a _date_, date."

"You don't find her attractive?"

"No! Well, I mean, _yeah_, but—I mean, you have to acknowledge at least objectively that she's a beautiful woman, right?"

"Using me as the standard? Yes, I suppose," Brennan said, shooting a surveying look over at Maura. "But Booth, if you wanted someone to bring to this event as just a friend, or a co-worker, why didn't you ask me? Wouldn't that have been the more logical thing to do?"

He sighed heavily, casting his gaze to the floor. "The more I think about it, the more I wonder if that might have been the case. But Maura thought this might be a good opportunity for us to get to know each other a little better, and get comfortable being together, because of the nature of our undercover operation that's happening tomorrow. Granted it's not a lot of time to prep, but it's better than nothin', right?"

"There might be merit to that theory, yes," Brennan conceded. "Although it would carry more weight if you were actually spending time with _her_, not with me."

She had started walking back to the table so Booth could accomplish this and get back on track, but he gently took her elbow and pulled her back. "Wait, wait. I wanted to talk to you to apologize for my behavior—"

"Which was unnecessary, as I wasn't offended."

"—but which I felt was warranted," Booth semi-growled. "But I also gotta ask you something else. I mean, I've gotta tell you something. I have to tell someone else, or I'm gonna just—burst."

"I have a hard time believing anything you might have to say would cause you to spontaneously combust, Booth, but go ahead."

"Okay. It's about Jane. Well actually, it's about Maura. It's something Cam let slip."

"Oh, yes! Frankie mentioned that Maura had said she and Cam used to work together!"

"They did. And Cam very casually brought up the fact that when Maura was working in New York, she very seriously dated a woman from the NYPD." He had gotten this out quickly, anxious to get it off his chest, but was a bit disappointed in the lack of a reaction the news got. Brennan simply contracted her brows and looked back at the table where Jane, Maura, Frankie, and Angela were now talking. "So?" Booth pressed her.

"That's odd," Brennan finally said. "That first night we had dinner at her house, I asked Dr. Isles if she considered herself a lesbian. She said she didn't."

"And she can't lie," Booth said. "Especially at that point, she wouldn't have even tried."

"Well then, there are two explanations," Brennan said. "Either she falls more into the bracket of bisexuality or bicuriousity, or she is the type of person who doesn't ascribe to sexuality labels at all."

"C'mon, you mean that fluid sexuality crap?"

"It's not _crap_, Booth," Brennan said lightly. "It's just a fact for many if not most people. Studies have been done that conclude every person, regardless of their alleged orientation, has had some sort of fantasy about a person of the same sex. It might not be conscious, but it's there, it's real, in various levels of intensity."

"So you're saying I've fantasized about a dude before?"

"'Fantasized' might be a bit of a strong word, but in a manner of speaking, yes."

Booth thoughtfully put his hand up on the wall, trying to gather his thoughts. "Well, I guess I did really idolize Tom Selleck for a while."

"Did you ever, say, have a dream about him? Dreams are the most prevalent example of our subconscious desires coming to the fore."

"Actually, yeah," Booth chuckled. "I had a dream that I was locked in a dungeon some place, and he came and rescued me. But that was it. We didn't like, kiss or anything."

"I'd say it counts," Brennan said.

"Well what about you, then? You've thought that about a woman before?"

"Oh, certainly. I've felt an attraction, but not a sexual one. For example, I don't find it surprising that Jane has aroused so much interest from Angela. I find her very attractive, but not to the point that I would want to have intercourse with her."

"Okay, stop," Booth sighed. "Rewind. We're getting off track here. Bottom line—do you think I should tell Jane that Maura had some sort of relationship with a woman before?"

Finally looking surprised, Brennan said, "You mean she doesn't know?"

"She's got no clue. She thinks Maura is totally straight."

"From my understanding, 'totally straight' women don't date other women," Brennan said seriously.

"Right. So…"

"So what, Booth? Do you want my assistance in getting them together?"

"I don't—I don't know, I just think it's weird, that's all," Booth muttered.

"I'll grant you that one, Booth. It does seem strange."

He closed his hand into a fist and gently prodded Brennan's shoulder. "Right. Well, I guess we should be getting back. Don't, uh, say anything to any of them about it, okay?"

"I won't."

"Good. That's the only thing we'd need to make any of this more awkward."


	15. You Left me Standing

**A/N**: Wow, I suck for not updating in so long. I'm really, really sorry! Thank you, my faithful readers-I promise never to make you wait this long for an update again! Yikes. Thanks for the support!

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><p>When Booth and Bones got back to the table, it was to see that Angela was trying to get Jane to dance. The small band had finished setting up, and started playing a very breezy, fun number. Angela was crazy about dancing, but Jane didn't seem liable to budge.<p>

"C'mon, Jane, we're at a dance!"

"No, we're at a _party_. Big difference."

"You like dancing, Angela?" Frankie asked.

"Yeah. I'm like that dangerous teenager they made PSA's about in the '60s, because if I could, I'd spend all my time at clubs on the dance floor, distracting other goody-goodies from their sock hops and their horn-rimmed glasses because honey, you can't handle all of this." She finished by gesturing to her form-fitting dress.

"That was quite a speech," commented Brennan, sitting down again. "Although I'm not surprised at your being fond of dancing, Angela. The rhythmic—"

"Let me guess," Angela cut her off. "You're about to compare dancing to sex."

Appearing only slightly ruffled, Brennan said, "Well, yes."

"Psh, I could've called that one, too," Booth said, pretending to sneer at Angela.

"I'm glad you two enjoy making sport out of my scientific observations," Brennan said, rolling her eyes.

"Scientific observations, Dr. Brennan?" Jane teased her. "Hell, if _I _could see that one coming, it's fair game for the layman." She then turned to her date, sighing heavily. "Okay. I will agree to at least one dance, or else I'll feel like a huge jerk. But you've gotta let me pick the song. Oh hey, you know what's good about having a jazz band, though?" Jane asked nobody in particular. "It means no freestyle rapping."

"Oh, man," Frankie snickered, putting his face in hands.

"Have you rapped at one of these functions before, Frankie?" Brennan asked curiously.

Laughing too hard to speak, he just pointed over at Maura.

"I still don't see what you two found so hilarious," Maura huffed.

"Wait—Maura, _you_ rapped?" Booth asked.

"No, no, she didn't actually rap," Jane said. "But it was—what, three years ago? Anyway, she was just one of the few people who deemed it necessary to get up and dance to it. Where'd you get those moves, Maura, MTV? Circa 1994?"

"You know, a lot of people wouldn't put up with your abuse," Maura said, shooting Jane an annoyed look over her cup.

Looking utterly unfazed, Jane just leaned back and folded her arms. "Ah, whatever. You know my abuse is good for you, Maura. What with all your degrees and your fancy job, you've got way too many people kissing your butt. Do you really need one more person in your life doing that?"

"Yes, thank you for always being so rudely honest with me," Maura said flatly.

"Hey, it wasn't just you that night, Maura," said Frankie. "Remember Cavanaugh's rap?"

"You mean the one where he was like, 'I'm proud to be the home of a Y chromosome?'" Jane laughed. "Yes. So in one night we had the simultaneous discontinuation of open mics, rapping, and alcohol, because there was no way in hell Cavanaugh would've done that sober. So he felt like he had to punish the rest of us, and boom, there you have it, 8th grade dance," she sighed, taking a sip of her ginger ale. "Man, that was a fun time, though. Any other traditions die out since then, Frankie?"

"Nope. We still end on 'Jailhouse Rock.'"

"The Elvis song?" Angela asked.

"Yup."

"Okay, Jane. I don't care if you think you look like a spaz compared to Elaine Benes, you _will _be dancing to that song with me."

"We'll see," Jane chuckled, taking Angela's hand and pulling it to her lap. "I guess since it's the last song of the night, if I haven't danced with you yet, I'll have to." She laughed again when Angela bit her lip, looking back at the dance floor. "Look, sweetie, I don't have a problem if you really want to get up and—" She broke off when Angela gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, grabbed Brennan's hand, and ran towards the floor. "…dance."

"Ooh, and it's D.C. 1, Rizzoli's, 0," Booth said, as Jane and Frankie exchanged a slightly weirded-out look.

"Seeley, would you like to dance?" Maura offered.

Jane hated to admit it, even to herself, but she bristled slightly at the sound of Maura calling Booth by his first name. Maura had worked with Korsak and Frost for years, but still referred to them by their formal titles—saying "Seeley" instead of "Agent Booth" indicated a surprisingly close relationship. When Maura made the invitation to dance, Booth involuntarily glanced at Jane, as if tacitly asking her approval. Arms folded casually, Jane just said, "don't look at me," at the same time that Maura, in a much more peeved tone, said, "don't look at her."

"Uh—well, okay then," Booth said uncertainly, allowing Maura to pull him to his feet.

Once they were out of earshot, Frankie said, "Am…I missing something, here?"

"What're you talking about, Frankie?"

"That. You and Booth and Maura. You don't—you don't like _Booth_, do you?"

After a semi-shocked silence, Jane responded, "Frankie. What part of 'I like _pussy_' don't you understand?"

"Is it Maura, then? You like Maura?"

"Maura's my best friend, Frankie," Jane said shortly. "I would appreciate it if you wouldn't assume that I like every beautiful woman who happens to cross my path."

"Hey! Be fair, Jane, when have I ever said that?" Frankie asked, and Jane begrudgingly had to admit to herself that he was right. "I'm not stupid, ya know. I'm observant. Judging by the way you and Maura, y'know, interact …it just seems like there's something there."

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, Jane said, "You and Dr. Brennan better stop gossiping about us behind our backs."

Jane was correct in thinking that when they were the first of the group to arrive at the party, Brennan had guilelessly shared with Frankie her hypothesis that a mutual attraction existed between Jane and Maura. If he were honest with himself, Frankie had never really wondered about it, because for a long time he had held the belief that the less he knew about Jane's love life, the happier she would be. She was never inclined to share details, and showed signs (like she was now) of hypertension and snarliness when the topic came up. But to hear someone as smart as Dr. Brennan point it out to him made Frankie feel a bit dumb for never having noticed it before. Was his sister really in love with her best friend?

Brennan, meanwhile, was gamely doing her best to keep up with Angela's dancing.

"So you gonna tell me?" Angela asked.

"Tell you what?"

"What you and Booth were talking about before you came back to the table. Brennan, you guys have got to do something about this whole situation."

"About…about what situation?" Brennan asked, genuinely confused.

"You two getting together. I just think if you really stopped and thought about it, you would see that you guys are like, meant to be. You know, maybe on the outside it doesn't seem like you should be a couple, but you actually go really well together—like, you know, cheese and broccoli or something."

"Water and oil, more like."

"C'mon, why do you have to be so negative?" Angela laughed. "Booth is a strong, sexy man who admires you for what you do and just wants to be there for you in every way he can. Including romantically. And sexually. And friend..erly."

"I don't think that's a word."

"You know what I mean. Why are you so dead set on denying yourself a life of comfortable, protected, sexy happiness?"

"Angela, I appreciate your concern on my behalf, I really do. But there are too many intangibles to consider. And besides, it's not as though it's this metaphorical, ignored elephant in the room. Booth and I have discussed our mutual attraction several times—it just wouldn't work."

"Says _you_. Booth clearly disagrees."

"That's because Booth is an immature romantic. He's everything I'm not."

"Opposites attract."

"They often do, yes. That doesn't mean they should mate for life."

"Oh, come on, Brennan. Don't you ever envision yourself getting old with him? You know, in that Norman Rockwell, happy family, matching-jogging-suits kind of way?"

Brennan was starting to get a tad exhausted with the simultaneous dancing and talking, but she was able to summon enough energy to warily raise an eyebrow in Angela's direction and say, "I've occasionally allowed myself the indulgence of picturing a long future with Booth, yes. Due to his virile devotion to good exercise and self-preservation, I imagine he would remain a very spirited man and spirited sexual partner for most of his life. But I've never thought about the potential of matching jogging suits before… what might that signify?"

"Well for one thing, it might signify ownership," Angela suggested. "You know, like instead of a leash and collar. You wear matching jogging suits, and all the other old ladies stay away from your old man. Let me ask you, Brennan, and be honest—do you ever get jealous when you see other women flirting with Booth?"

"Well, it's easy to see why women _would _show interest in flirting with him," Brennan said. "He's an extremely attractive male specimen, and possesses many of the qualities that women have long and still try to—"

"You didn't answer my question, honey. Does it make you _jealous? _Like, say, if you looked over at him right now, would you be wishing that _you _were the one making him smile like that?"

Brennan glanced over at their table, frowning upon realizing that only Jane and Frankie were sitting there. Her eyes quickly swept the room to find Booth, and she was surprised to ultimately find him just on the other side of the dance floor, engaged in an only slightly-awkward pseudo-dance step with one Maura Isles.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're laughing at me?" Booth asked, trying to keep up.

"Probably because I am," Maura responded, earning an self-conscious chuckle from Booth. "But you shouldn't be embarrassed, Seeley! When I was a girl, I went through at least some level of training in nearly every type of dance. Apparently, the only major kind I missed out on was how to dance properly to freestyle rap—evidently a gaping hole in my education."

"Clearly," Booth laughed. And though he could totally believe it when Jane said Maura was a spaz while trying to dance to rap, an unbidden image suddenly entered his mind of this gorgeous woman in front of him getting low in a club, wearing something that would make a nun blush. He could feel his face getting warm, and felt immediately guilty not only for coming up with a mental image like that of a girl his best friend liked, but also because at this moment, Maura just looked so sweet and innocent. In fact, Booth couldn't remember ever using the word "adorable" to describe a grown woman, and yet it seemed the best way to label Maura.

He had no idea what exact kind of dance they were doing; everyone else on the dance floor was either making it up as they went along, singles style (like Angela and Brennan), or attempting a more legitimate style, like a fox trot or jitterbugging or whatever the heck other kind of dance people did to jazz. Booth and Maura were definitely dancing together, but it was far from intimate; just good fun—they were barely touching, their hands interlaced or on each other's shoulders merely for the sake of formality.

"So have you ever been to a Mormon funeral before?" Booth asked, trying to bring professionalism back into their sphere.

"No, but it's not technically a funeral we're going to, is it?" Maura said. "It's a memorial service. I've come across nothing in my studies to indicate that, unlike their approaches to weddings and baptisms, their religion has a distinctive type of ceremony for the dead. By the way, you'll want to make sure you take off that crucifix hanging around your neck when we go."

"What? Why?"

"The crucifix is a Catholic symbol, like the Star of David stands for Judaism."

"So, what, they don't believe in the crucifixion?"

"Don't be silly; they're a Christian sect, of course they do. They just don't believe in having a symbol to represent their entire religion, and if they did, they wouldn't choose as depressing an icon as the cross."

"Depressing?"

"Well, yes. I was under the impression that Jesus Christ suffered on the cross."

"He did. But then He rose again."

"Not on the cross, though."

Booth had to laugh—this was by far the least romantic conversation he had ever had while dancing with someone; even at Catholic parties, his discussions with girls had never touched upon this aspect of religion. Maura grinned as well, but their attention was diverted when the song ended and the piano player announced, "All right, it's time to slow things down so we can _heat things up!_"

"Did he _really _just say that?" Jane groaned, as Angela came running back to the table with Brennan in tow. "Hey babe, having fun?"

"Jane! This is my _favorite _song, will you please dance with me?" Angela begged.

"What a coincidence," Jane chuckled, obligingly getting to her feet. "This is actually one of my favorites, as well. Let's go." With a hand on the small of Angela's back, she returned them both to the dance floor.

"Frankie," said Brennan. "Would you care to engage in this rhythmic ceremonial ritual with me?"

"With pleasure," he said, shooting his date an adorably dimpled grin.

"So you like this song, huh?" Angela asked, lifting her hands up to Jane's shoulders.

Resting her own hands comfortably on Angela's waist, Jane just smiled and said, "Yup. My uncle —actually the one who likes your dad's band, coincidentally—loved this song. When we were kids and he'd come to visit, it was sort of his lullaby. It could always soothe me, right away. And when I got older, and I heard it again, I was surprised at how beautiful it actually was."

The song was "Blue Moon," performed quite capably by the man at the piano in a rich tenor voice, slow and sweet. Angela gently curled her fingers into as much of Jane's hair as she could. "Aw, that's sweet, Jane. Under the tough, badass cop exterior, you're really a softie, aren't you?"

"Yeah, don't tell anyone," Jane whispered into Angela's ear, eliciting a light chuckle from her date. "Nah, they all know, anyway. Most of the time, at least. I guess I'm kind of like Booth that way. On the job, he can scare the crap out of you. But he's secretly like, this huge sweetheart. Just not to bad guys."

"I know, I love that about you," Angela said, and when Jane raised her eyebrows, she quickly added, "Uh, both—I love that about you both. I think it's great. I think… I think I'm gonna shut up now."

"Yeah, let's just dance," Jane said softly.

Meanwhile, Maura and Booth had just made it back to their group's empty table. When the slow song had come up, Maura had seemed willing to stay on the dance floor, but Booth was definitely not comfortable with the implications of such a dance. He wasn't sure if it was childish on his part, but he couldn't help associating slow dancing with romance, an atmosphere he was determined not to enter with Maura… outside of their plan to go undercover, at least. For her part, Maura had imagined that a slow dance would be a good, innocuous way to feel more of a connection with Booth, something she felt needed to be established before she could believably pretend to be his wife. Maybe there would have to be another way to go about it…

"Seeley?" she asked after a long, awkward pause.

"Yes?"

She leaned in a little closer, though it was easy for Booth to hear her over such a relatively quiet song. "Would you tell me a secret?"

Whatever he might have been expecting to hear, this wasn't it. "About…what?"

"Anything. Tell me something your co-workers don't know, or your family doesn't know." Maura sighed when Booth continued to look puzzled; not upset, but definitely confused. "Sorry, I don't know how to explain this," Maura said. "I just want us to—I think we need to… know something about each other, something private, something personal. It would help me so much with our undercover. If I were your wife, I would know these things. I think there's a certain unspoken element that is occasionally noticeable in close couples …if you scrutinize them closely enough, you can see a look they exchange, or a touch. I just—I apologize if it doesn't make any sense, but I feel as though it would at least help _me_ a tremendous amount if I could feel close to you in that way." Another long pause followed, during which Booth continued to stare, and Maura briefly bit her lower lip. "Is that strange?"

"No," he said softly, though his expression was blank. "No, I…I think it makes sense." He folded his arms, trying to think of a secret he could tell her. What didn't his grandfather know? What didn't Brennan know? What didn't Jane? "I just gotta think of something," he muttered, noticing that Maura looked extremely tense, as if worried she had offended him somehow. He wanted her to know that was far from the case. "Give me, I don't know, a prompt."

She thought about it for a moment, then said, "Have you ever done something you're ashamed of?"

For some reason, Booth felt like he could tell her anything, and she wouldn't be horrified or withdraw from him. She radiated a sense of kind, non-judgmental understanding. With a heavy sigh, he finally said, "When I was in sixth grade, I beat up Charlie Wickham. He was a wimp, a nerd. He called me a caveman because at the time, the only class I was good at was phys ed. So I decided _not _to make a liar of him, and I beat him up after school one day. I made him bleed. I broke his nose. He told everyone—his parents, the principal; he didn't have any friends—he told 'em he'd fallen off his bike. I don't know if he was proud, or afraid, or what. But I hated myself for doing it. I wanted to tell somebody, anybody, what really happened, but I was too scared of what'd happen to me. Thought I might get kicked out of school." He snorted a laugh, playing with the empty glass in front of him. "Charlie transferred after that. I don't know what happened to him. Sometimes I wish I could call him up. Tell him it's my job now to get rid of bullies." A loud silence followed this story, filled only by the strains of a saxophone solo in "Blue Moon," which sounded strangely distant. Booth looked up at Maura, and saw an expression of utmost sadness on her face. "Was that a dumb secret?" he asked, before it occurred to him that maybe Maura had been teased in school.

"No," she whispered. "No, it wasn't. You were a child when that happened, though, Seeley. I find it very moving that you still remember that instance, though …it speaks to your sympathetic nature. Perhaps you acted in a moment of weakness, as a boy. Jane told me you have a son—I know you'll never let him do something like that."

"You're right," Booth said. "I won't." He fidgeted with the empty glass again, then said, "All right then, your turn. What might your husband know about you?"

He had asked it as a joke to try and lighten the mood, but Maura averted her gaze, looking as though she was internally struggling against something very painful. "I don't know if it's quite a secret," she said, "but it's something nobody in the BPD knows about."

Booth's smile was replaced instantly by a solemn frown. Was she about to admit to her relationship with Vivian Phillips? As Maura twisted her hands in her lap, Booth wondered if she had possibly brought this whole secrets business up in the first place because _she _needed to get something off her chest. "What is it?" he prodded her gently.

Maura took a deep breath, and still staring resolutely at the tablecloth between them, said, "I'm fairly open in my approach to sexuality, Seeley. Not necessarily in the way you said Dr. Brennan is. I mean in the sense that I—I was at one point involved with a woman. Romantically. Sexually." She inhaled sharply again, stealing a quick look at Booth that told her nothing before she looked back at the table, a fist kneading her forehead. "It wasn't the way I expected; I mean, it wasn't as different from being with a man as I had expected."

"Who was she?" Booth asked, though he knew the answer.

"A cop I worked with in New York. She really swept me off my feet."

"Why haven't you told anyone here about it?" Again, he made sure his tone was curious, not accusatory or angry.

Finally, Maura was able to look him in the face. "Because… because…" Her eyes shot over Booth's shoulder. "Jane!"

He turned around to see Jane and Angela walking towards them, hand-in-hand. The song was over, and neither Maura or Booth had noticed.

"We're taking off early," Jane said as Angela grabbed the purse slung over her chair.

"You're leaving?" Maura asked.

"Don't get us wrong, it's been fun," Angela said. "But it's been a long day, and I think I need to go to bed…"

Slightly alarmed by this sudden change of pace, Booth tried to come up with a reason that they should stay—did Jane know what she was doing? "You're—but—"

"I know! Doesn't it look good in this dress?" Angela laughed, turning around. "Bye guys!"

"See you tomorrow," Jane said, nodding at Booth, then glancing at Maura before putting an arm around Angela's waist and guiding her towards the door.

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><p><strong>AN**: The next chapter should be up fairly soon, I swear. Reviews help a ton, though :)


	16. The Doctor is In

**A/N**: Wow, people. Dang! All I can say is that I'm glad we're _basically _on the same page with this whole Jane/Angela/Maura business. In response to some of your concerns: Yes, Jane is a coward regarding this issue. I tried to establish that earlier, perhaps not clearly enough. Well actually, that's the only concern I'm going to address, because a lot of the others will be addressed in this installment.  
>Oh, but one more thing. I watch too many soaps, tellanovellas, and Korean dramas. This is my version of those. <strong>Angsty melodrama<strong>. Please don't confuse this for actual, decent writing. I know that it's not. And yet another thing- **reread the description of this story**. Particularly the "romantic chaos ensues" part.

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><p>"Maura…"<p>

She couldn't hear him. In addition to the fact that a loud jazz number had just started up, Maura was fixated on the sight of Jane and Angela walking away, leaving the party after one dance. It was hard to misconstrue their plans.

"Seeley," she said, turning back to look at him, her expression relaying nothing but the utmost pain. "I've… I've done something _really_ foolish."

"Let's get out of here," he suggested quietly. "We need to go someplace we can talk." He stood up, not giving her a chance to try and talk him out of it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her get to her feet as well, as he scoped the room to try and find Bones and Frankie. They were standing by a refreshment table, where Frankie appeared to have just said something quite amusing and Brennan was doing that adorably awkward guffaw of hers. "Be right back," Booth said to Maura, cutting through a mob of dancing couples to reach Brennan and Frankie. "Hey, guys. I'm not sure if you noticed this or not, but Angela and Jane left."

"Already?" Frankie asked, his eyebrows raising. "Wow. _That _was fast."

"Maura and I are gonna duck out for a second," Booth said. "She's… uh, she needs some air." Nudging Brennan, he said, "You gonna be all right here, Bones?"

"Of course," she said blankly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He looked at her for a moment, confused himself as to why the question had come out of him. "Um, good point. Have fun guys—we'll be back." As he returned to Maura, Booth couldn't help wishing that Sweets was here. _He'd know what to do about this, and Maura would be able to talk to him without it being weird. She knows I'm one of Jane's best friends; she won't tell me anything …and if she does, it'll be really awkward. _His train of thought stopped there, because he had reached Maura, and she was standing hunched over the table, breathing heavily. "Geez! Maura, are you all right?"

"Outside," she choked. "Let's go outside."

Taking her carefully by the arm, Booth led the way to the front door. Holding it open for Maura, he heard someone nearby mutter, "First Gabriel Dean, now this guy. Damn FBI, thinking they can just muscle in here and…" He didn't care enough to hear the end of that statement—it wasn't important.

Once they were outside, he stopped and said, "Maura? What's on your mind, here?"

"Seeley, I can't—I can't put all this on you, I've already said too much. You don't care."

"Don't be ridiculous, Maura. You're important to Jane, and therefore important to me. You have nothing to feel bad about, nothing to be sorry for. _I _only feel sorry that my secret was so lame in comparison—"

"It wasn't," Maura said, clutching her stomach as though she were about to be sick. "We all have our secret sorrows, our past traumas, Seeley. One isn't greater or less than the other."

"Okay, but you were going to say something else before Jane and Angela walked over, weren't you?" Booth pressed her. When the only response he got was more labored breathing, he said, "Maura, you're starting to freak me out, here."

"Don't worry, I'll be fine," Maura said in the most unconvincing tone ever.

"Maura—look." He tried to remember a concept Sweets had once explained to him, and hoped it might be applicable here. "You ever heard of a microwave relationship? It's true you and I don't know each other very well, and that pretty soon, I'll be back in D.C. That's why you felt you could tell me this secret, right? You—you, uh, you put it in this microwave, our brief time together, you get it out, and then I'm gone and there's no pressure!"

"No pressure? You are Jane's closest friend!" Maura cried.

Now they were getting somewhere. "What does this have to do with Jane?"

"It has _everything _to do with Jane!"

Booth bit back the question _"Why, because she's gay? Because you like her?"_, eager as he was to get them off his tongue. But the sight of how clearly distressed Maura was sent a wave of sympathy crashing over him, and he couldn't bring himself to be as upset or exaggerated as he felt the justification to be. Maura was leaning against the outer wall of the building, weeping softly; Booth tried to comfort her by putting a hand on her shoulder.

"I feel sick," she said.

"Tell me what's going on, Maura."

"It started out fine," she gasped, reaching up with one hand to wipe away at her tears while the other still exerted pressure on her stomach. "Vivian and I. This cop in New York."

"Had you ever…uh, been with a woman before?"

"No, I'd hardly thought about it. I'd been in only two real, serious relationships at that point, and they were both with men. I'd dated plenty of men, too." _And all that implies_. "But Vivian was different, she—she got under my skin somehow, I mean in the best way. She intrigued me like no other woman had before, she… she was so very… different. There was an androgyny there… no, it was more like a hard masculinity. She had several traits which are all societally expected to be male, and she didn't hide them, she didn't try to compensate for it with anything overtly feminine. Not the way she dressed, the food she ate, the films she enjoyed, anything. And she was quiet. Most women like to talk, they like to gossip, they like to…" She laughed humorlessly, waving her hands to gesture at herself. "Share their feelings. Vivian was a closed book, one I was determined to open."

"What'd you find once you did?" Booth asked, knowing that Maura must have succeeded in this vein at least somewhat.

Maura shrugged with a rueful smile. "That she loved me. I spoke with her enough to find out what she did in her spare time, and sort of invited myself along. Once she started opening up, I learned more, and it… it just happened. _We _just happened." She exhaled deeply, her tears having ceased. It felt good to get this off her chest, at least so far. "I feel no shame in telling you, Seeley, I had never reached such heights in terms of pure sexual gratification. She was dominant, possessive, even less interested in foreplay than my male lovers. She just got right to it, because that's the kind of person she was. It was strangely exhilarating." A gulp interrupted her as memories flashed into her mind of Vivian's roughness, her strength, which had so awed and aroused Maura's every faculty. "On the rare occasions where she allowed me to be in control, we would go more slowly, and she… I thought she trusted me."

After a long silence, Booth whispered, "What happened?"

"Oh, it was thrilling. It was thrilling for a while, Seeley. But it didn't go anywhere, because _she _wouldn't go anywhere. There was no tenderness, and even when she told me she loved me, I couldn't feel it." She chuckled again, offering empty hands up to Booth. "You see? I don't normally speak that way. There is not a scientific way to _feel _words that somebody tells you. I let myself get swept up before, with Garrett and with Ian, and then with Vivian, when she didn't say mushy things or enforce her words with anything but, well, _force_, I couldn't buy into it. Furthermore, I think she had put me on a pedestal. I was this brilliant, beautiful doctor with degrees in things she couldn't even name, and it turned into this sort of… idol worship, if I may say that without sounding too full of myself." She sighed heavily. "You see, that's why sometimes I think Dr. Brennan has the right idea. It may feel like it hurts, Seeley, but it's all for the best."

"No," Booth said flatly. "I refuse to believe that, and I refuse to believe that _you _believe it, either. If you felt like Vivian didn't love you, you were right to break things off. Simple as that."

Maura shook her head. "Nothing is that simple, Seeley. I would give her so much, and she gave back so little. I had thought that by making the tremendous breakthrough we had—just by getting her to _talk _to me, to tell me things—more would come. I thought it would set a trend, a precedent, that she would get more open as time went by. But she didn't. She got more closed, more guarded than before. It took me far too long to realize it, I was so enamored by her. I felt so _protected _by her. She was very protective of me, I'll say that. But it's as if there was this expectation that because I was with her, that should've been enough. Just _being _with her, I mean. Nobody could understand why I was unhappy …Vivian was strong, she was gorgeous, she was extremely intelligent. But that wasn't enough for me," Maura whispered, looking at Booth with pleading eyes, as if hoping he would jump in and tell her it was all right to feel that way.

Which he obligingly did. "Of course, Maura."

"I couldn't handle it anymore. When I told her I wanted to break up, she thought it was because of her job, and if I'm honest with myself, that _was _part of the reason. It was terrifying not knowing whether she would come home safe or not, and I made more than one hospital visit to see her. I hated that she was always putting her life on the line; it was hard to stay sane, sometimes. Seeley, you're in that line of work. You must understand how it could terrify people who are close to you."

With a solemn nod, he said, "Yeah, I do."

"She was furious with me. I knew there'd be no going back, not even to the light friendship we had established before dating. It became just too much to bear. It wasn't just awkward and uncomfortable, it was… _physically _painful. I couldn't focus on my work when she was around, which was most of the time. I know I said she wasn't tender, but I had seen her smile at me, I had seen a brightness in her eyes, and—and it was all gone. She closed up again, hard, uncaring, and apparently unruffled by _my_ presence. And it sounds masochistic, I know, but I missed being with her. I missed sharing my bed with her, having her be there in the morning, even if we hardly ever talked through breakfast. We'd read the paper, but it was still nice somehow. I knew I couldn't take it anymore, being at work and having her be there. Three months, Booth. I waited that long, and it still didn't go away. So I resigned."

"And you came here."

"No, I went to Philadelphia for a year and a half. Then a position opened up in Boston, which is where I'm from, where I went to college, and I—I wanted to be back here."

"So you came to BPD," Booth said. "And you met Jane."

"I met Jane," Maura said with a nod.

"And why didn't you tell her any of this?" Booth asked.

"Seeley, I'm talking too much, I…"

"No. No you're not."

His voice was so tender, so full of patience, that Maura could only close her eyes, swallow again, and continue: "When I first met her, she reminded me a little of Vivian, and that intimidated me. And our first case was awful, Seeley, it was _terrible_. The most gruesome murders you can imagine, all done to children. Jane was never at rest, she was never happy, she _had _to find the person responsible. I admired her tenacity, but I thought she was just like Vivian: closed, hard, mean in her everyday life, just as she was at work—because at that point, I only ever _saw _her at work. It was over a month later when we _finally _solved the case…"

_Jane was ecstatic. Maura had never seen her like this, not even remotely like this. It was almost as if she had been possessed by another being (were such a thing physically possible, of course). But she came practically bounding into the morgue just after 4:00, flushed and beaming, though she looked a little worse for wear._

_Without so much as a preliminary hello, Jane strolled right up to Maura and proudly said, "We did it, Dr. Isles! Frost and I got him!" _

_ Maura's face split into a wide grin, and it felt like the first time she had smiled in weeks. "You did? That's—that's incredible!"_

_ "I know, I can't believe it," Jane said, looking almost ready to cry with relief, putting a hand to her heart. "It was so scary, Dr. Isles. We were afraid we wouldn't make it in time, but we—I don't know, through the grace of God or something, we got him before he kidnapped Joey Richards."_

_ "That's wonderful, Detective Rizzoli." Maura was smiling because of how great it really was to finally know this criminal had been caught, but also because Jane's attitude was so infectious. She had such a beautiful smile… this was nothing like Vivian. Even after solving the toughest of cases, Vivian would just shrug and smirk—"all in a day's work," she say. It was charming enough in its own way, indicative of humility and quiet unassuming bravery. But it took Maura only a few moments to decide she much preferred Jane Rizzoli's manner after catching a killer. Her exuberance was truly a gorgeous thing to behold._

_ Jane furrowed her brow. "Dr. Isles, how long you been working here?"_

_ "Six weeks and two days."_

_ Jane's eyebrows rose comically. "What! And you're still calling me Detective Rizzoli? That should've stopped six weeks and a day ago." She laughed ruefully, allowing Maura to feel it was safe to laugh as well. "I'm so sorry for the way I've been acting. You probably think I'm a real psycho!"_

_ "Oh, no. You don't exhibit mannerisms typical of psychosis," Maura said seriously. She bit her lip when Jane cocked an eyebrow, giving her a crooked smile. "You were being figurative."_

_ "Yeah…"_

_ "Oh. Sorry. I only interpreted your actions and demeanor as fierce dedication to your job, which I admire, Detective."_

_ "It's Jane. Please, just call me Jane."_

_ "Then you must drop the formalities, as well. I'm Maura." _

_ "Right," Jane chuckled. "Well, now that we're properly introduced, I just want to apologize again. I usually don't let cases get to me __as__ much as this last one has. I'm afraid I wasn't as welcoming as I could have been; I just—I could not seem to focus on anything unrelated to this case, to these kids, you know? I mean we always had to be on our guard, against the clock, in case he struck again."_

_ "Of course. I understand."_

_ "Still…it doesn't excuse my behavior."_

_ "Unnecessary, detect—er, Jane, but appreciated," Maura said with a warm smile that was wholeheartedly reflected. Then, with no transition whatsoever, she said, "It looks as if you were wounded in this great capture of yours."_

_ "Oh, yeah," Jane chuckled. "That's actually kind of why I came down here." She pointed to her nose. "I was wondering if you could pop this out for me."_

_ Maura had to admit she was a little disappointed that this was Jane's reason for coming to see her; she had hoped it had just been to share good news with Maura, perhaps to establish some sort of friendship. She tried to hide her disappointment with a joke: "Can't you detectives do something safe, like yoga?"_

_ "Okay," Jane said. "Next time a perp's about to bash my head into a wall, I'll go into downward dog and __really__ kick his ass."_

_ That got Maura to laugh again. "This might hurt a little," she said, before pushing Jane's nose back into place._

_The cracking sound it made was just as disturbing as the actual pain. "BAH! A little?"_

_ "You'll want to put some ice on that for the next twenty-four hours, or you'll wind up looking like Mike Tyson."_

_ "Well, I guess they'll have ice at the Dirty Robber."_

_ "You're not going home?" _

_ "What? Of course not! Korsak, Frost and I are going out to celebrate! You don't just go home after solving a case like this!"_

_ "My mistake," Maura sighed, Jane's tone making her feel a tad stupid._

_ Recognizing she had said something to inadvertently hurt Maura's feelings, Jane said, "Hey, I was just teasing you, Dr. Isles. Maura. You doing anything? You should come with us!"_

_ "Oh—well, I don't want to intrude…" _

_ "Don't be ridiculous, you wouldn't be intruding. You're part of the team, and I'm really sorry I've been too distracted to make sure you know that. You comin' or what?" _

_ The memory of that night still warmed Maura's heart. Jane's transformation had been incredible, and Maura was surprised at her own outgoing nature. Ever since Vivian, she had become more closed up than ever before, making social situations even more difficult than they had been before. But Jane put her at ease, always made her feel like part of the group. The next few days, the friendship between the two of them grew stronger and faster than any either of them had ever experienced. New cases arrived and were all trying and upsetting in their own ways, but now Maura and Jane had each other to lean on, to complain to, and relax with. _

_ After Maura had been at BPD for about half a year, she was driving a slightly-intoxicated Jane home from the Dirty Robber. When they reached Jane's apartment complex, Jane asked, "So how attached are you to your job, anyway?"_

_ "I love it."_

_ "Right. Would you be up to adding another duty on top of it?"_

_ "What did you have in mind, Jane?" _

_ After a brief struggle with her seatbelt, Jane replied, "I only ask because I have an opening for a best friend. And I was wondering if you'd be interested in filling it." _

_ It was ridiculous and cheesy, but Maura couldn't help feeling buoyant at Jane's words. "Only if you'll return the favor."_

_ "Great!" Jane shouted, stepping out of Maura's car. " I'll have my people talk to your people, and I'll have the paperwork for your application on your desk tomorrow." She was about to close the door, then leaned down and said, "That was a joke, Maura."_

_ "Oh."_

_ "The part about the application, I mean. Let's be best friends."_

_ She smiled. "Let's."_

Maura pulled herself out of her reverie, having been calmed by the mere remembrance of Jane's kindness during that period of her life. "I didn't realize until actually later that week that Jane was even a lesbian," she told Booth. "I'm afraid I was a bit rude—I would talk about dates I went on, and she would ask about the men, but I usually failed to do the tactful thing, which would have been to ask for details about Jane's love life. Anything I asked could be answered without gender specific pronouns. For example, she told me she dated 'two kinds:' those who feared the badge, and those who wanted her to use the handcuffs. She never elaborated."

"That's Jane for you," Booth snorted. "Although knowing her, she probably wasn't doing consciously. I mean, I'm guessing she assumed you'd heard from someone else, or maybe even that she'd already told you. Besides, I get the impression she doesn't date much…"

"She doesn't."

There was silence again, as Maura's breathing finally got back to its regular rhythm. Booth knew there was more to this story, but he didn't want to force anything out of Maura until she was ready. Although she was no longer gasping for breath or choking on her own tears, Maura was still weeping, still not ready to go back inside.

"I love her."

She had said it so quietly and so out of the blue that Booth had missed it. "What?"

"I'm in love with her," Maura squeaked, her voice higher in pitch than usual. A small sob escaped her, feeling free for the moment that she had finally spoken. "Something Jane has always envied of me is my ability to compartmentalize …a while ago I wondered if I might feel an attraction towards Jane, but I forced myself to disregard it because of what I'd already been through. Not just because she reminded me of Vivian …Viv was the second person I seriously dated who I also worked with. Break-ups were nearly impossible to deal with, or I should say _work _was nearly impossible to deal with because of that… and perhaps irrationally, I felt no desire to ever date a cop again. It was too much stress, too much to worry about. But Seeley—I know it's such a terrible cliché, but Jane's friendship means everything to me. _Everything_. If we broke up and I couldn't have her in my life anymore, I don't know what I'd do!"

Her tears were back with a vengeance, and she no longer tried to stem the flow. She just allowed herself to be pulled into Booth's strong, comforting embrace, sobbing unabashedly onto his shoulder. Maura's intestines felt as if they had twisted themselves into irreversible knots, some form of punishment for lying to Angela, but also to Jane, because keeping her feelings a secret was its own kind of lie, wasn't it? Even if it was for their good? Compartmentalizing had become too difficult, something Maura didn't think she'd ever say to herself.

"I never had a best friend before I met her," she garbled out. "Honestly, Seeley, I've never had a friend like Jane. I admit, sometimes I wondered if she might have been attracted to me, but I was afraid she would assume I was being presumptuous, or that—I don't know; I _had _to be just imagining it, because Jane takes initiative, doesn't she? If she had feelings for me, wouldn't she say something?"

Maura had pulled back to look Booth in the eye, and he wished she hadn't. Stuck for an answer, he somewhat bleakly replied, "Well, I—I guess you'd think so…"

Suddenly Booth felt himself being yanked back by the shoulder, and could not have been more surprised to see that his attacker was Frankie. Brennan was looking on surprise, the two of them having just come outside.

"What the hell'd you do to Maura?" Frankie nearly shouted.

"_What?_"

"Why's she crying? What did you do?"

"Frankie! What the hell, I didn't—"

"If Jane was here, she'd kick your ass for making her cry! But she's not, so now _I'm _gonna have to, and I don't—"

Maura finally butted in, stepping between Frankie and Booth. "Frankie! Calm down! Seeley has been out here comforting me, I'm—I'm not feeling well." She clutched at her stomach again, and waved vaguely towards the venue. "I shouldn't have come tonight, it was too much."

Booth raised an eyebrow at Brennan. "What're you two doing out here anyway?"

Not caring to admit it was because she had wanted to see whether Booth and Maura had left, and what exactly they were doing if they hadn't, Brennan said, "We were just curious where you two had gone. We were worried something might be the matter."

"Sorry, man," Frankie sighed, clapping a hand on Booth's shoulder. "Guess I kinda freaked out. Maura, you want me to take you home?"

"I'll take her," Booth said. "You two stay. Have fun."

"Well, Frankie _was _just about to explain to me the logistics of hanging a spoon off the top epidermis layer of my nasal septum…"

"It's harder than most people think," Frankie explained.

"Right…like I said, have a good time," Booth said, not feeling particularly threatened by Frankie spending time with Brennan. "I might come back …if I don't, check in at the hotel when you get back, Bones, all right?"

"All right, Booth. Good night. Good night, Dr. Isles—take care."

Maura pulled herself together enough to manage, "Good night."

Once Frankie and Brennan had stepped back inside, Booth said, "You sure you want to go home? We could stay, if you feel up to it."

Maura shook her head. "Just take me anywhere there's alcohol."

Booth nodded, and as they walked to his car, instinctively pulled out his phone. Maura hadn't explicitly forbidden him from contacting Jane, and while he wasn't tactless enough to send her a text saying "_omg Maura loves you! :) :) :)_," he couldn't help feeling wary of the fact that she was off in places unknown with Angela. So staying a step behind Maura, he simply sent a text to Jane which read, "_please make sure you know what you're doing_."

Anxious to cover up when Maura glanced over her shoulder, Booth said, "Hey, maybe we'll run into Hodgins. I know he said he was going to hit a few bars tonight."

(Being the only member of the D.C. group without a date to the policeman's ball, Hodgins had indeed been left alone for the night. In a slightly embarrassing fit of drunkenness he had called Billy to explain his sad situation, and was too drunk to be surprised when the old man showed up a few minutes later at the bar Hodgins had called from. "You wanna know why my daughter's on a date with Jane Rizzoli right now? Because Jane Rizzoli is a badass. You want Angela, Jack, you gotta be a badass." Which is how he got Hodgins to nearly succeed in helping him steal a car a few hours later.)

Booth wasn't necessarily expecting a quick reply from Jane, if at all. She was off-duty and with a woman, so there was a chance she might not even have her phone on her at all. His text could be interpreted in more than one way—if you had asked Angela a few minutes prior, she'd say Jane knew exactly what she was doing.

"Oh God," Angela breathed, pressed against Jane's door with the detective right on top of her, kissing the pulse point on her neck. "Oh God, oh God, oh God—!"

Jane grabbed the woman's thigh, pulling a slender leg up and around her waist as the other hand traversed the skin that Angela's backless dress offered. Not in her recent memory could Jane remember feeling this aroused, this excited by a woman's interest in her, possibly because she hadn't let anyone get that close. What was it about Angela that intrigued her so much? Aside from the fact that she was utterly gorgeous, hilarious, smart, un-intimidated by Jane's job, and into her…

"Not fair," Angela managed to choke out.

"What's not fair?" Jane husked.

Angela pulled Jane's hair out of its ponytail, letting the tiny tie fall to the floor, and she threaded her fingers through smooth, dark curls. "You're wearing too many clothes and I can't catch my breath."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here," Jane whispered. "First date, right?"

"Right…so couch, instead of bedroom?"

"That works."

Giving Jane a playful shove back, Angela guided her to the couch . "You are unbelievable," she said, sitting down and pulling Jane next to her. "You are _so _sexy…"

Maybe it was her misery, maybe it was her desperate need for some kind of romantic contact, maybe it was the buzz from the beer she and Angela had indulged in before returning to Jane's apartment—but Jane needed her ego stoked more. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Angela murmured with one of her catlike grins. "Especially in your uniform. Like this tie," she said, pulling at it to bring Jane down into a kiss. "And that badge clipped onto your belt, with the gun on your hip—so sexy."

"Mm, but potentially dangerous," Jane chuckled, pulling back enough to undo the strap of the holster.

"Wait, let me do it," Angela whispered, and Jane froze. The artist's deft fingers tugged at the buckle of the belt, grazing the bottom of Jane's stomach and the tops of her thighs before Angela pushed them out of the straps. When this was accomplished, she moved her hands up to Jane's collar, and began undoing the buttons. If she pressed a hand to Jane's chest, she would've felt how hard the detective's heart was beating, throbbing in correlation to another part of her body, coursing with desire but uneasiness as well. Angela couldn't wait long enough to finish what she'd started, and with Jane's shirt only half-unbuttoned, she positioned herself on top of Jane, a knee thrust between her legs. "Now where were we?" she asked needlessly, before leaning in for another kiss.

Jane responded in kind, wincing at the arousing pain every time Angela's knee shifted into her crotch, rubbing against her. One of Jane's hands ghosted across the artist's chest, pausing briefly at the sensation of feeling a protruding nipple under the fabric of her dress. At this contact, Angela moaned into their kiss, redoubling her efforts and kissing Jane harder, really tasting her.

It was at this moment that Booth's text arrived, and before she'd even read it, Jane knew she had to stop.

Her phone was in her pocket and she felt it vibrate three times, signaling a text message and not a phone call. Straddling Jane as she was, Angela had felt the incoming text as well, against her leg. With the second vibration, Jane started to slow her efforts, and with the third, had stopped completely. Angela pulled back to look at her, trying in vain to read her expression.

"Jane," she whispered, all but gulping for air.

"Angela, I…"

The problem was that Jane didn't even need to look at her phone to know she couldn't take this woman any farther. She had already been surprised with herself for letting things go this far on a first date, but now she was too disgusted to allow herself to continue. Because even with this beautiful woman basically dry humping her, Jane's first thought when her phone had gone off had been: _Maura_.

With a shaky breath, Jane took both of Angela's hands in her own and said, "God, Angela, I'm sorry. I can't do this."

"Jane, I don't… we're not doing anything wrong," Angela said weakly.

"I don't hook-up," Jane said, the words coming out of her automatically, her go-to excuse when women approached her outside of work. Hell, she had even told it to Angela already, when they had been at Hodgins' house that night which seemed eons ago.

"This isn't a hook-up," Angela said, starting to feel a little offended and a bit sad. "We know each other, we're on a date…"

Jane shook her head. "God, you're right. Sorry. I'm so sorry, I just… I just can't. I don't wanna use you."

Under lighter circumstances, Angela might have encouraged Jane to do just that. But sensing that something was obviously wrong, she merely shifted so that she was sitting next to Jane, not on top of her. "Jane, you're not using me."

"Not—but I am, though," Jane groaned, putting her face in her hands.

"So then…you're not attracted to me?"

"No, that's not it. I just…" Jane groaned and sighed again, hating herself and what she was doing, what she was saying. "I _am _attracted to you. But I think I'm only attracted to your attraction to me, if that makes sense, I dunno. I'm sick, Ange. I'm screwed up."

"Don't say that…"

"It's true. I brought you back here, I let all this go on when I'm not… when I'm…"

"Jane, I'm not, like, asking you to tell me you're in love with me or anything. We barely met, and we felt something might be there—"

"I know," Jane said quickly, cutting her off and still feeling ready to throw up. "I'm… I'm…"

Another few silent moments passed, punctuated only by the deep, shaky breaths Jane was inhaling to keep herself from totally freaking out. Angela sat there in sexually frustrated confusion, having no idea how they'd gone from so hot and heavy to near-meltdown on the turn of a dime. She didn't feel cheated or angry; more than anything, she just wanted to understand Jane so she could help.

And then it struck her: when she'd asked Maura whether she was romantically interested in Jane, she had been asking the wrong person. It was justified, seeing as how Jane had gone along with Angela's flirting. But considering that Jane had stopped herself from going any further tonight, that she had tried and failed to let herself go, gave Angela the impression that Jane had been struggling in vain to fight feelings she didn't think were reciprocated.

"Oh," Angela said softly, more to herself than to Jane. Another long silence passed before she continued: "You can't do this, because …you're interested in somebody else."

Eyes and teeth clenched shut, Jane leaned forward with her hands clasped together, as if about to start a very emotional prayer. Instead, all she could manage to do was choke back a dry sob as she nodded once.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Hm...and now I think I'm going to turn back to my noncontroversial AU, where nothing hurts!


	17. All My Mistake

**A/N**: A relatively short one, but hopefully the next update will be here soon. Angsty, silly drama is so fun.

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><p>"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—I'm <em>so <em>sorry."

"Jane, you don't have to apologize."

"I do, I feel like a total creep! Angela, you're a really incredible woman. You're beautiful, and you're smart, and you're really funny—"

"Thank you."

"—so you deserve somebody who's going to give you the respect you deserve and who's going to treat you like—well, the way you should be treated."

"You're right. I do. Ultimately."

"I don't want you to think—"

"Would you like to _know _what I'm thinking? Right now?"

Jane swallowed hard, still feeling consumed with guilt. She had come disgustingly close to taking advantage of Angela's desire for her, all while Jane knew she herself was in love with somebody else. _Booth's right; I've been a coward and I need to man up_. The worst part of the feeling was that she really did believe all those things she'd said about Angela, and in another time and space, maybe they could've been great together. Jane finally dared to look Angela in the eye for the first time since breaking off their heated kiss from moments earlier. "All right," she said with a shallow breath. "What're you thinking?"

Angela sighed deeply, rubbing Jane's back in a consoling manner. "I'm thinking of all the times I've been used as a means to an end. I'm thinking of how often I've been someone's second choice, or been on somebody's arm because of an obligation they felt they had to fulfill. At the end of the day, someone ends up bitter, someone ends up hurt." She sighed again, smiling ruefully at Jane. "There are a lot of times they should've stopped, or I should've stopped, and we didn't. You did. I think you did the right thing."

"But I led you on," Jane said, determined to make Angela at least acknowledge that the detective was guilty for _some_thing.

"You didn't," Angela said. "Or if you did, I certainly didn't feel like you were. I was the aggressive one, not you. I usually am," she chuckled. "I feel confident enough in daring to ask if you find me at all repulsive."

"What? No! Of course not!"

"You might even, dare I say, find me attractive."

"Well…well, I mean, like—what I said earlier…"

"I'm just not her."

Jane returned her gaze somberly to the ground. "Yeah."

"Don't beat yourself up about this," Angela said quietly. "This was just a date, right? What do people go on dates for, anyway? To see whether a certain relationship is worth pursuing, right? So I think our takeaway from this is that sure, we could work on a physical level. Maybe we could even work on another level, too, but… not if you've got this other woman on your mind. Does she know how you feel?"

With a heavy sigh, Jane leaned forward, rubbing her forehead. "No."

"Well why the hell not?" Angela asked, giving Jane's back a light punch.

To her own surprise, Jane was able laugh, possibly because of Angela's unexpected spunky attitude. "I bet a sound like a total cliché, Ange. I can chase down a perp. I can tackle a witch. Hell, I can freaking shoot myself through the gut to incapacitate a criminal! And I can't—I can't… tell a woman how I feel about her."

"You shot yourself through the _gut?_" Angela gasped.

"Yes," Jane sighed with a wince.

"Wow. You're very brave."

"In some cases, sure. Not here. I can't even go on a date with a beautiful woman and…" She gestured to Angela's mussed up state of dress.

"And…take advantage of how hot she is for you when your own heart wouldn't be in it? Yeah, you cowardly asshole," Angela deadpanned.

"You're not making this easier."

"What? It's true. I think you're hot. You already know that, I've already made an idiot of myself saying it, so I'm not gonna back out of it now. But I _am _gonna, well, back out. Jane, sweetie, you clearly have some things to work through."

Jane grunted, twisting her fingers together. "Yeah. I know. I'm sorry I'm such a screw-up."

"Jane, stop _saying _that. Stop saying that about yourself or I swear to God, I will—I will call you every day a million times just to say the words 'moist vaginal flesh ointment!'"

Groaning, Jane finally leaned back and really laughed. "Agh, Angela! Nice memory."

"Honey, you only told me about those word aversions like...four hours ago."

"Guess that's true."

"…don't get your _panties _in a twist—"

"Aaand there's the last one," Jane chuckled. She ran a hand through her hair, brushing it behind her back (painfully unaware of how distractingly hot she looked while doing so, deepening the disappointment Angela was feeling in spite of her upbeat bearing). "Angela."

"Don't apologize again, please."

"All right. Just…thanks, then. I guess."

"Don't thank me yet," Angela sighed, getting to her feet. Jane remained on the couch as she collected her purse and coat, saying, "If I thought I could help you, Jane, I would. But I don't want you to be saddled with the feeling that you're using me. But, if you ever _do _need… I don't know, anything, give me a call. Or if… I dunno, things don't work out…" The words had slipped out of her, her own desire temporarily dismantling tact, and she felt instantly guilty at the sight of Jane nearly cringing. "I mean, not that they wouldn't. Jane. Look at me." Jane wearily turned to catch Angela's eye, still a little surprised at herself for letting this gorgeous creature go, when she'd have been a sure thing. _Just not what I need right now. _"You are a very… you're a very interesting person. I've only known you a few days, and I already want to know you so much better. You're smart, you're brave, you're loyal… too bad you're butt-ugly."

"Shallow," Jane snorted with a grin, looking back down at the floor.

"But seriously, Jane." She waited to continue until the detective made eye contact again. "Any woman would be lucky to have you on her arm. Sometimes …I dunno, sometimes people don't really know how they feel about a person until they hear that person say something. You know? But even if whoever it is doesn't return the sentiment, isn't it better to know?"

Jane took a deep breath. "Yeah. Then I'd stop beating myself up, I guess. Then I'd be able to go on dates with people without feeling weird about it."

"Hey. Like I said—if things don't work out and you need an outlet, you have my number." _You can screw the living daylights out of me. _Angela turned and headed for the door, and once she opened it, said, "Jane. Just… promise me you won't wait too long. With Maura, I mean."

The expression on Jane's face told Angela that her guess had been exactly right, and Jane's stammer did nothing to dissuade her. "With—wait too long for what?"

Angela just smiled ruefully. "To tell her."

When the door closed behind Angela, Jane continued to sit on the couch, feeling like the world's biggest tool. Her head was throbbing, as was—she was embarrassed to admit—the very heated area between her legs. _Don't do it. Don't do it. Don't do it, you sicko. _Too late; somehow her belt was already undone, and her hand had slipped beneath the waistband of her slacks and underwear. A light hiss escaped her, escalating quickly into an aggravated moan as she touched herself, screwing her eyes shut and gasping into the suddenly thick air of the room. She tried to focus singularly on herself, just on bringing herself down from this peak she had reached, without envisioning anyone else. It was hard, because Angela had just been there, had in fact been the one to get Jane to realize how much she needed this, but Jane refused to do the woman the final discredit of masturbating to her memory. She had gotten up and left when Jane admitted she was holding a torch for Maura—this sent Jane's mind on an involuntary racetrack; her hips jerked up into her hand at the thought of Maura sitting on top of her, stroking her, touching her—

Which is when two things happened almost simultaneously: with a shiver, Jane released hard and thick into her palm, and when she slowly pulled out, it dawned on her that in her confession just now, she had never mentioned Maura by name. Angela was the one who had.

This realization, combined with ridiculous guilt-racked pleasure Jane had just given herself and the alcohol she had consumed with Angela, caused her to actually fall off the couch. She lay face-down on the carpet for several long moments, breathing heavily and willing herself not to throw up. _You sick f—k. You're a disgrace. Get up and never look at another woman again_.

Jane finally was able to climb groggily to her feet, but not until she'd wiped her dirtied hand on the material underneath her couch. She made to zip her slacks back up, then thought better of it and just stepped out of them, leaving them carelessly on the floor as she walked to her bedroom. She was just going to go ahead and change into some pajamas when she passed herself in the mirror, and as she was wont to do when she was tipsy, flip-flopped on her opinion of herself.

She was standing in front of the mirror in nothing but the mostly-unbuttoned top half of her cop uniform and a pair of underwear that was probably ruined past the point of reuse. Her hair fell scraggly and long, giving her that just-rolled-out-of-bed look. _You know what, Jane Rizzoli? You __are__ hot, _she told herself, loosening her tie and smirking at her reflection. But seconds later, she was frowning and on the verge of alcohol-and-frustration induced tears again. _The hell is wrong with me? I need to chill the freak out and stop being such a dick_.

Solution? Vacuuming.

Preoccupied with this domestic chore, Jane failed to hear or see her phone vibrating in the pocket of the pants she had so carelessly left on the floor (and was vacuuming around). This was probably just as well, because the person calling was an excessively drunk Dr. Isles, officially leaving her first incredibly drunken, rambling phone message.

She and Booth had gone to a bar near Maura's home called Morgan's, where Maura felt they were less likely to run into someone from work. Not knowing her very well, Booth was unable to judge whether it was normal for her to knock back so many drinks, but after her fourth martini he felt the need to jump in.

"Uh…Maura? I think now might be a good time to stop."

"Stop? Stop what?" she asked, looking genuinely puzzled.

"Um…how about we get you home?"

"Home? I _am_ home," Maura said morosely, picking the olive out of her last glass and sticking into her mouth. "I was born in this bar. I grew up in this bar. And I thought I was going to die in this bar… alone." A wide grin plastered itself onto her plastered face as she leaned towards Booth. "But then _you _should up, and whoops!"

"Okay," he said, ducking quickly out of her grasp as she tried to put her arms around him. "I'm gonna go bring the car around. You stay _right here_, Maura, okay?" He glanced at the bartender and said, "Make sure she doesn't leave?" The bartender nodded, and Booth dashed quickly out of the bar.

"We're husbands," Maura explained to the bartender. "Or I mean, we're going to be. We're Mormons."

"Really? Shouldn't have let you come to the bar, then."

She looked angry. "Why? Are you prejudiced against my people? Persecutor?"

"No, I just meant—"

"We didn't come all the way out of Egypt to Utah to be kept out of places by people like you, you blasphemer!"

"I meant you don't usually drink."

"What? Why—oh! Ha, ha, ha! OH! You know what I just realized?" Maura asked, and a giggling fit overtook her to the point that she couldn't speak for a few moments. "It's like my name! Maura, _Mor_mon! Get it? Maur-mon! But it's okay, we're only going to be them tomorrow. For a day. Ha, ha, ha, ha—I have to call Jane."

"Uh…kay."

Suddenly looking all business, Maura pulled her phone out of her purse and tried to focus her vision enough to find Jane's number. Once she had accomplished this, she called it and put the phone to her ear. It rang several times, and Maura pulled it away slightly; the sound was aggravating. But then came that voice, that beautiful voice – _"Hi, you've reached Detective Jane Rizzoli. Leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks." – _and there was the beep.

"You know Jane, I really think you ought to change your machine message," Maura said. "You could say, 'Hi, I can't come to the phone right now because I'm off being a sexy badass cop. Maybe I'm even coming for you.' HA! Jane, would you ever come for me? Because I think—I think it'd be fun, don't you? Only you're on a date right now with that woman from the place where the other guys work. Oh God, Jane, if you come for her I swear I will cut her. With a knife. With all the knives. Because I am that song that came on the radio when we were listening to it in the car. It was a love song because I love you and I don't know what to do about it because we work together and you're a detective and you're my best friend and you're beautiful. You're beautiful like a portrait by John Sargent Singer Sargent… Singer… who am I thinking of? Never mind. Did you know I think you're beautiful? Because I do. But I don't want you to think I assume you'd be interested in me _just _because you're a lesbian and I am an extremely attractive woman of the homo sapiens female species of humans. Human beings, which is what we are. I think we would go good together. Your body would feel really good on top of mine and in mine and around mine. Don't you think? And don't you think Jo and Bass could be best friends, and they could play together, and dear God, I am _so _drunk right now I don't even—"

The machine cut her off there. But she didn't notice. "—know. I am going to come to your house tomorrow, or tonight, and you won't know what hit you because I'm going to blindfold you first. And then have my way with you, the hard way."

And with that, she hung up and promptly passed out.

When Booth came running back into the bar, he groaned upon seeing that he had already lost Maura. "Thanks for your help, bud," he said to the bartender, who merely shrugged as Booth carefully hoisted Maura into his arms and walked outside. A man helpfully held the front door open for him, allowing Booth to quickly reach his car, which was parked right on the curb. He propped Maura against the car as he opened her door, and she stirred slightly.

"What's going on?" she slurred.

"I'm taking you home," Booth said, assisting her into the front seat.

Once he had gotten into the car as well and was struggling to help Maura with her seatbelt, she said, "Are you trying to take advantage of me?"

"No! I'm trying to belt you in." When it clicked successfully, he immediately moved his hands to the steering wheel and drove off. He was only grateful that Maura had pointed out her home on the way, because he doubted that in her current state, she'd be of much help at all. Indeed, after singing a few off-key bars of "Piano Man," Maura seemed to have really lost consciousness.

Booth was sure he looked extremely sketchy as he carried Maura and her purse to her front door, then set her down to fish around for her keys. They were buried deep inside of the purse, but he finally found them and impatiently entered the house, holding it open with his feet as he picked Maura up once again to carry her inside. He felt his phone ringing, but couldn't answer it as he had his hands full of medical examiner and wanted to get her comfortably in bed. The vibrating phone lent a strange aggravation, as if it were a time bomb and if he didn't lie Maura down soon, she would explode. After a quick search, he finally found what he had to assume was her bedroom, and deposited her on the bed. He took a moment to collect himself, sitting on the edge of the silk sheets and catching his breath. Maura sighed deeply and tucked one of her legs up. There was a light smile on her face.

_ She really is gorgeous_, Booth couldn't help thinking. _No wonder Jane fell for her like a safe_.

This was not a particularly good thing to have in mind as he went about removing her heeled shoes, one hand near her ankle as he undid the tiny straps. Once he had removed them both, Booth got to his feet and headed for the door. He wondered whether he had imagined it, but it sounded very much to him as if Maura had just whispered Jane's name … _oh, man. I hope she's not doing too much with Angela right now_. Locking the front doorknob, Booth left Maura's keys on a hook by the door and stepped outside, which is when he remembered he had a missed call. Just as he was pulling out his phone to see who it had been, it started ringing again.

"Booth."

"BOOTH! WHY ISN'T ANYONE ANSWERING THEIR DAMN PHONES?"

"Whoa! Who—"

"IT'S ANGELA. TALK ME DOWN, BOOTH, TALK. ME. DOWN!"

"Angela! What—where—?"

"I tried to call Brennan and she didn't pick up, and I tried to call my dad and _he _didn't pick up, and I even tried to call Hodgins and HE didn't pick up, and then I tried calling you a minute ago and you didn't pick up either! What's going on? Are you still at the party?"

"No, no, I've been at Maura's—"

He was glad he wasn't driving yet, because Angela's shriek caused him to jump so badly he lost his grip on the phone. Picking it up off the grass, it was still easy to hear Angela's words: "NO! Stop right now! I don't care if she's naked and in bed, get away from her _right now!_ Back up! Hands against the wall!"

"Angela! How the hell much have you had to drink?"

"Not hardly anything, Booth, I swear! I am not drunk, I'm just hysterical!"

"…yeah, apparently. Ange, you cut me off. I'm leaving Maura's house right now."

"Why were you there in the first place?"

"Never mind. I was dropping her off, okay?"

"Okay. Did you… do anything?"

"No. Not a thing. Now why are you so freaked out? Why'd you try calling everyone? Are you okay, is Jane okay?"

"I'm okay, Jane's a wreck."

"What happened?"

"Well we were… we were… oh, geez. Are you on your way back to the hotel?"

"I can be."

"Do it. Apparently Brennan is still partying it up with the cops, and Hodgins is nowhere to be found, so you and I could talk in some privacy. Get here as soon as you can."

"Okay, okay, I'm on my way."

Neither Booth nor Angela was totally prepared for what their impending conversation would include. How much did the other know, and what all did they have the right to share? The only thing they both fervently believed in was that Maura Isles could not lie—and all that would be left to discover was which of the contradictory statements she had given was the false one.


	18. Hangovers

**A/N**: So...I think I finally figured out the pattern for my updates. I'm good for a short while, then write half a chapter and let it sit for like three weeks before I can decide how to end it. Possibly my Rizzoli & Isles AU is to blame for my writer's block here. That one is much easier to write, and also has a built-in excuse to prolong the wait before the Rizzles-ness, unlike this admittedly sloppy angst. I still love the idea of all these characters knowing each other, but I struggle to write for them! Especially Brennan. That's why I don't have her in this as much as I probably should. Anyway, for anyone still reading this, I apologize for the long wait! I suck, I know.

* * *

><p>Angela had taken a cab back to the hotel from Jane's apartment, and waited anxiously in the lobby for Booth to arrive. When he finally did, she grabbed his arm and yanked him up the nearest stairwell (eliciting reminiscent laughter of a nearby elderly old couple who no longer had it in them to race up the stairs to a bedroom like that). But Angela's intention was merely to get Booth alone so they could discuss, to use the scientific term, what the crap was going on.<p>

"All right, so what happened?" Booth asked as soon as they were in the room he shared with Hodgins (which was currently empty). "Why're you so spooked?"

He shut the door and with a dramatic sigh, Angela flopped onto her back on one of the beds. "I hate that Jane's so hot," she moaned, rubbing her eyes.

"Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

"No," Angela sighed, sitting up again. "I'm just explaining that I honestly do find her attractive, and not just in a physical sense. Man, you should've seen me back there. I handled it _so _well."

"Handled _what _well?" Booth was almost afraid to ask.

"Nothing sexual," Angela said, hoping to get the terrified look off her friend's face.

"So you two didn't, uh…"

"We made out on her couch for a while, but before anything else happened, she suddenly get all emotional because she told me she's into someone else. And she didn't want to use me. Booth, are _all _of your friends as noble as you are?"

Booth merely snorted, sitting on the edge of the other bed and facing Angela. "Nope. Jane's really the only one with scruples. Did she tell you who it was? The person she likes, I mean?"

Angela bit her lip. "Yes."

"Maura?"

"What—yes! How'd you know?"

"She told me."

"Oh, crap. Was I supposed to tell you?"

"You didn't, so it's okay."

"No, no, Booth, it's _not _okay. Before I started flirting with Jane—I mean, before I actually allowed myself to follow up on any of it, I asked Maura if she liked her. At all. I asked if there was any attraction there. I wanted to make sure because, I mean, you know, I told you at the bar it seemed like there was something going on between them. And then Jane said Maura couldn't lie, so I asked her about it, and she said she was not attracted to Jane." She shook her head in disbelief when Booth started laughing. "Booth! This is not funny! This is the antithesis of funny! _Why are you laughing?_"

He could barely get it out: "Maura lied to you!"

"How could she have?"

"She did! She lied to you! How long did you stick around after she told you she wasn't attracted to Jane?"

"Like…I don't know, like two seconds?"

"That's it, then. For all we know, she probably passed out on the floor after you left."

"Why do you think she was lying?"

"Well first of all, it's my own damn fault," Booth cried, the realization hitting him and making him furious with himself. "I told her to practice for our undercover. She was so worried about screwing it up that I told her to try lying."

Angela shook her head again, looking even more confused. "Why would she lie about something so serious though?"

"I don't know! She probably thought nothing would come of it, I dunno—anyway, she told me tonight. She is interested." He nodded when Angela's eyes widened. "Oh _hell _yeah, she is interested."

"Wh—when did she tell you this?"

"At the party. Sober. After you guys left."

"After we…oh, geez. Oh, man."

"Yup. You were the one hot enough to make her crack."

"Well what do we do?"

"Do?"

"Yeah! Look, Booth. What we've just told each other? That was probably never intended to be shared. But we did it anyway. I don't know about you, but I'm a little drunk, so that's my excuse. But now we have a responsibility to make something happen with this! You don't just tell people you're in love with someone and then let it lie, and not do anything! We've already shared their secrets, so now we have to make sure it doesn't _stay _secret!"

Booth was getting carried away by the slightly manic look in Angela's eye. "Man, you're right. They are way too miserable without each other and this is stupid. It's what they both want. Now we just have to make it happen! Ah, Ange, I love that you're a woman and you know these things!" He high-fived her. "You should've seen Maura after we left that party. She got _wasted_."

"Wasted?"

"Yeah. I mean I feel kinda bad; we were talking about Jane and she kept getting depressed, so she kept knocking back these martinis."

Angela's expression was serious again. "Martinis _plural? _Booth, did you leave her alone at all during this period of time? Any trips to the bathroom, or… breaks for fresh air?"

"Uh…I left her to get the car when we were leaving."

With a loud gasp, Angela said, "NO."

"What?"

"When Jane and I were—um, together, her phone went off and that's when we stopped making out. She didn't check to see who it was but, oh my God, what if it was Maura? Oh no. She'll have left some rambling drunk text or phone message about how she feels and Booth, that can_not_ be how Jane finds out!"

"Why not? Then our job would be done for us."

"NO! Booth, it can't be that way! Think how embarrassed Maura would be!"

"We don't even know if she did that!"

"Well we have to find out!"

"How do propose doing that?"

"We are going to Jane's apartment and you are finding out."

"Angela, c'mon, I'm bushed—"

Angela got violently to her feet. "You're _bushed_? Oh what, so you're tired, and that means your best friend's love life can take a backseat? No. No, no." She grabbed his arm and yanked him off the bed. "We are going over there right now. So help me, Booth, my date tonight did not come to a grinding halt just so we could stop now!"

"Stop now?" Booth groaned, though he was allowing himself to be dragged out of the room and back down the hall. "C'mon, Angela, they're grown women. Maybe a drunk, rambling message is the best way to have this out."

"I can't believe you! I thought you were all about helping Jane be happy!"

"I am! I want to help her, but not like this! Not by breaking into her house and erasing her messages!"

"Booth, it's not going to be as blunt as that. This is war. You've been to war, you know what I mean! We need diversions, subterfuge, all that."

"Look, I don't like the idea of us taking sides here. I'm Switzerland, all right? Seeley Switzerland Booth. Not giving either of them an edge. Breaking into Jane's house feels…"

"Hey, I'm Switzerland, too, all right? Angela Switzerland-but-will-be-Jane's-sexual-ally-if-needs-be Montenegro."

"Great," Booth sighed. They had already reached the parking lot, and Angela was looking for his car. "Okay, so what's the plan here? I drive us over there, and then what?"

"I wait in the car while you go up and get Jane's phone. She'll be tipsy, and if my women's intuition is correct—which it always is—she'll have probably had more to drink since I left. Distract her, get her phone, see if Maura left a message. It's as simple as that."

"Isn't this an invasion of privacy?"

"Hey. When drinking is involved, all bets are off. Let's move, or I will drive there without you."

Mostly because it looked as though Angela was ready to do just that, Booth swerved in front of her and got into the driver's seat. He wondered how exactly they had gotten to this point, Angela cackling mischievously in the seat next to him, Jane and Maura doing God knew what. Booth was still trying to wrap his head around everything he had learned that evening, and the questions he still felt needed to be answered: Maura had admitted to him that she was in love with Jane, who thought Maura was straight. Why hadn't Maura dropped a hint? Hell, why hadn't she just come forward with her story about Vivian? Being so open himself, it annoyed him to witness what he perceived to be romantic cowardice in others. These two women obviously needed to be together, but for whatever reasons, they had restricted themselves from even bringing it up to each other! _Women are stupid_.

"Okay," he said, once he had reached Jane's apartment. "You stay here, Angela—I'm sure the last thing Jane needs right now is another evening call from you. Stick with the car, all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she said lightly. "I'll be here when you get back. So be quick."

Booth merely grumbled an incoherent reply before launching himself out of the car. He wanted to get this over with as fast as possible, because it still felt weird to him, even if he thought Angela had a point. It would have devastated him beyond hope if Brennan had first learned about his feelings for her through a drunken ramble. _That is, of course, assuming Maura even did something like that_.

When he got to Jane's door, he heard the sound of a vacuum going off inside. Booth sighed heavily, knowing it would probably be hard for her to hear the knock. So banged his fist repeatedly against the door, as loud as he could. Every now and then he paused to give his hand a rest, and to hope the vacuum would turn off, but it never did. The volume and urgency of his knocking increased, when he suddenly found himself being confronted by a girl maybe in her twenties.

"Sir," she said, looking somewhat cross, "Please don't be upset with Detective Rizzoli for vacuuming so late at night. I know it's noisy, but she has a lot on her mind. She's a _detective_. Whatever it is, vacuuming helps ease her stress."

"I'm not knocking to complain about the noise," Booth said. "Detective Rizzoli's a friend of mine. I'm here to talk to her about something. JANE!" he shouted.

As if by a miracle, her door finally swung open just then. In simultaneity, Booth and Jane's neighbors felt their jaws drop at Jane's appearance: she had never bothered to put on pants, and was still in her unbuttoned uniform top and loosened tie, her hair falling loose and long down her back. A near-empty bottle of Johnnie Walker Red was in her hand while the vacuum remained on, lying on its side in the corner of the room.

"Booth!" she laughed hoarsely, pulling him in by the sleeve. "C'mon in!" She slammed the door behind him, leaving her speechless neighbor in the hallway. "Sorry about the noise," she said, walking over to the vacuum and turning it off with her toe. "I guess I just kinda forgot to turn that off. What're you doing here?"

"Uh…I…um…" He knew it was wrong, but he was finding it exceedingly difficult to focus on speaking properly when Jane was standing in front of him like this, drunk and only half-dressed. This was by far the most skin he had ever seen of hers, and while it wasn't quite arousing, it was definitely distracting. "Jane. Would you mind putting on some pants?"

"Oh!" she laughed. "Oh, of course! Silly me. Sorry." She passed him and walked over to the couch, where her slack were still on the floor in a heap. "Go ahead, take a seat," she said, pulling the pants back on as Booth wearily collapsed onto the couch. "You'll have to 'scuse my appearance, Booth. I should be having sex right now."

"Uh…"

"With Angela," she clarified, yawning. "Your friend Angela. She and I should be in my bed right now but we're not. You know why we're not, Booth? Because of Maura goddamn freaking Isles, that's why. Miss Dr. I'm-so-lovely Isles."

"Huh. So has she, uh…contacted you at all tonight?"

"Who?"

"Maura…"

"Maura. Oh, yes. Maura. She did, yeah."

Booth's heart took a leap. "She did?"

Jane nodded and pointed to the kitchen, where Booth saw her cell phone lying on the counter. "Yah. I saw I had a missed call from her and a message, and I think she left the message because nobody else's called me since this afternoon. You sent me that text, though. And Maura called."

"She did? But you didn't listen to the message?"

"Nope. I erased it."

"You erased it…"

"Yeah." She finished off Johnnie Walker, tossing the empty bottle to Booth and putting her legs up onto his lap. "Yep. If it wasn't for her, I'd have gotten laid tonight. Your friend's really hot, Booth, but she's not Maura. And I want her, I want Maura."

"I know you do, pal." He was a little worried; he had never known Jane to get this drunk, and he definitely didn't think she would while embroiled in such a serious case. What if that message had been left by Eden, or someone else relating to the Howard murder? He would have to assume that were that the case, whoever it was would try again tomorrow when Jane failed to respond. There wasn't much he could do about it now. At least he could rest easy knowing that if Maura had indeed been the one to leave a message, Jane hadn't heard it. That was ultimately for the best, right? It would have to be. "Hey, Jane."

"Yeah?"

"What would you do if Maura was into you?"

"What would I do?"

"Yeah."

Jane raised an eyebrow at Booth and grinned wickedly. "I would take her every day. And treat her like a princess. OOH! Like Cinderella, 'cause—don't tell anyone this—Cinderella was always my favorite. I used to watch that one all the time when I was a kid and no one was around. If Maura loved me, I'd never ask anyone for anything ever again. Never ever. Because what more could I want, Booth? What more could I need to make my life a perfect happy sunshine state all the time? Nothing. Not a blasted thing. She's all I need."

"Good to know," Booth muttered, patting her leg and shifting it off of him.

"You aren't leavin', are you?" she moaned.

"Do you want me to stay?"

After a considerable pause, she said, "No. Sorry, I had to think about it first. I thought maybe if we did some role play, you could pretend to be Maura and it would all be good because I am—I am _really _drunk right now. But you're a man, so I don't think it'd work."

"Yeah, probably not," Booth said, trying and failing to visualize himself in one of Maura's dresses. Wow, was that a disturbing image. "You gonna be okay, Rizzoli?"

"Of course. I'm Detective Cadet Jane Rizzoli. I get crap done. Gimme a terrorist and I'll shoot him. Gimme a perp and I'll chase him down. Gimme a beautiful woman and I'll…" She sighed and groaned again, leaning over, and Booth thought for a moment she was about to throw up. Instead, she only muttered, "and I'll send her off."

"What if I gave you a doctor?" Booth asked.

She looked up at him and half-smiled. "I'll just about die."

Booth wound up staying another ten minutes, waiting until Jane had fallen asleep on her couch before he left. Although Angela bombarded him with questions the minute he got back to the car, he refrained from telling her anything more than "I don't think we have anything to worry about." With that, they drove back to the hotel in silence, both their brains buzzing with too much excitement and too much concern to be able to focus on talking. Angela was surprised to get back to her room and see that Brennan wasn't back yet (_there must be more to Frankie than I thought!_), but not as surprised as Booth was to open his door and see Brennan sitting calmly on Hodgins' bed.

"Geez!" he shouted when he caught sight of her, grabbing his heart and collapsing against the closed door. "Bones! How'd you get in here?"

"Dr. Hodgins gave me one of the spare keys," she answered simply. "Where have you been?"

"Jane's."

"Oh."

"Why?"

"Approximately fifteen minutes ago, I received a very strange message from Dr. Isles."

"What?"

"Yes. In addition to three missed calls from Angela, I had one from Dr. Isles, and she left me a message as well. I spent quite a while dancing with Frankie, which is when I'm assuming they both called, and why I didn't pick up my phone. It wasn't on me."

Booth walked over to his bed, sitting opposite of Brennan. "What did she say?"

Frowning, Brennan pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket and put in the password for her voicemail. "I was hoping you could actually help me decipher it. As you spent the evening as Dr. Isles' date, you know her better than I do, and you also of course know Jane much better than I do, and that's who the message is about. Here."

She held out the phone, and Booth quickly took it in time to hear Maura's message: "Dr. Brennan, hello, this is Dr. Maura Isles. Booth just dropped me off at home …well, quite a while ago. I just woke up, but I'm still clothed, so I assume he didn't do anything to me. I don't think he would, do you? Besides, I wouldn't let him, because he is clearly in love with you and I am clearly not. In love with you, I mean. Or him. Is that clear? Is it clear that I love Jane? It might not be clear, now that I think about it, even if everyone else seems to think it is. Jane doesn't. You asked me before if I identify as a lesbian, and I don't, but Jane does, and I love her. Perhaps some time you and I could discuss Kinsey's studies on the homosexual? I'm sure it would make for a fascinating conversation, but Jane would never talk to me about it because she'd say it would make her head hurt. God, she can be such an idiot sometimes, but I love her anyway. Don't you? I mean, don't you love Seeley? He's such a wonderful man. And he loves you. Oops. My tortoise needs me. Good night!"

When the message had ended, Booth stonily handed the phone back to Brennan. "Well," he said after an awkward pause. "That… sure was a lot."

"Booth, are you familiar with the saying 'drunk words are sober thoughts'?" Brennan asked.

"Yeah. I'm surprised you are."

"Well, I am. Furthermore, various experiences throughout my life have provided sufficient data to back it up. You said Dr. Isles was romantically involved with another woman in the past, correct? Based on this piece of information, we know that she would therefore not be averse to a serious relationship with someone of her own gender. Furthermore, based inconclusively on the interactions you and I have witnessed between her and Detective Rizzoli, I would be willing to hypothesize that Dr. Isles is in fact telling the truth here."

"Right! Yes, okay."

"And you feel confident that Detective Rizzoli reciprocates these feelings?"

"Yup."

"Hm." Brennan sighed and made to get up. "Well, this is fairly intriguing, I must say. I never would have expected someone like Dr. Isles to get so emotionally attached to someone."

Booth stood up as well, asking, "Why? Because she's a scientist?"

"Not _just _that, Booth—it would be illogical to assume all people of any given vocation have the same inclinations and experiences regarding human emotions. Dr. Isles just reminds me very much of, well, me."

"I thought so too, at first, but not anymore. I don't think she's an empiricist like you are, Bones."

"She also has a filter, which I admit I don't seem to always possess," Brennan admitted. "Although I do wonder how much of that message was given due to alcoholic influence."

With a playful sneer, Booth asked, "What would happen if I got you drunk, Bones?"

"Well, I imagine it would be excessively easy to get me into bed, as even sober I've thought many times about what a pleasurable experience that would be with you," she replied very matter-of-factly. "However, I know that you are one of those people whose nature it is to connect responsibility and emotion to the physical release that comes with sex, a train of thought I do not follow. So unless you were drunk as well, there's a good chance nothing would happen between us."

"That's not _exactly _what I meant," Booth said. "I want to know what you'd say. If you drunken words are sober thoughts, I want to know what you'd say."

Brennan stared at him for a long while, trying to read his expression. But his features were frustratingly smooth, and ultimately Brennan said, "I'm not entirely sure what you're trying to suggest, Booth. Do you want us to go get drunk right now?"

He just chuckled softly and patted her shoulder. "Nah, Bones, not tonight. Can I make a rain-check for Thanksgiving, though?"

Before heading back to her own room, Brennan merely shrugged and said, "Despite my incredible brilliance, Booth, I do not possess the ability to see into the future."

**The Next Morning…**

_Please be alone…please be alone… _These words had been the only ones rushing through Maura's mind during the last few blocks to Jane's apartment, then all the way up the stairs, then as she knocked frantically at Jane's door. When Jane didn't come right away, Maura immediately jumped to the worst conclusion—she was in bed with Angela Montenegro and didn't want to be disturbed; possibly they were just waking up or doing something a bit more physical; Jane might be hurrying to get dressed again—_no, Jane, please be alone—!_

Finally, Jane opened the door looking incredibly haggard and a tad annoyed. Taking in the sight of her messy hair, sweats, and hastily-thrown on sweater, all Maura could think to say was, "You look terrible."

"Thank you," Jane said sarcastically, opening the door wide enough for Maura to step inside before closing it after her. "What brings you over here so early?"

"I thought it might be nice to have breakfast together before work," she replied, pulling a bakery container out of her bag.

Ambling over to her kitchen, Jane grumbled, "I don't think I can eat anything this morning." She went to one of the cupboards and pulled out some Advil, dry-swallowing them before she turned around to see Maura opening the bag. "…is that a Danish?"

"Cherry, yes."

And though it was against her better judgment, Jane mused, "Mm, guess I could maybe make an exception for one of those. Want something to drink?"

"Water would be fine."

"Great." Jane poured two glasses of tap water and slid one across the counter to Maura. She started a pot of coffee, then, for a very long time, stood and stared down at the Danish, trying to come to some sort of decision. "That looks so good," she explained when she noticed Maura was staring quizzically at her. "But I have _such _a bad hangover, Maura. I'm ashamed to admit it."

"You and Angela go out drinking last night?" Maura asked, fighting to keep her voice level.

"Mm, sort of," Jane mumbled, pulling off a corner of the Danish and hesitatingly putting it in her mouth. "We left the party and got a couple drinks… then came back here." An agonizingly long silence followed, causing Maura to nearly squirm with anxious discomfort. "Made out for a while," Jane finally sighed. "And then she left."

"Why?"

Jane looked up, raising an eyebrow at Maura. "Just because. First date, you know. I don't go further than that on a first date."

"Well if you drank so much to get such a terrible hangover, I'm impressed you managed to keep yourself to your restrictive moral standards."

Missing the bite to Maura's tone, Jane said, "I drank more after she left. Just kinda felt like one of those nights. Actually, I remember Booth coming over a while later …I fell asleep on the couch while he was here, I guess, 'cause I woke up in the middle of the night on my couch, still dressed in my uniform. I think I knocked into the wall about eight times before I finally made it to my bedroom."

Maura knew that by some miracle, Jane had yet to hear her message. If she had, it surely would have been one of the first things she'd brought up upon Maura's arrival. _Unless of course she thinks it would be tactless and is waiting for me to say something about it… leave it to Jane to try and display tact at a time like this_. But then an even more terrifying thought suddenly struck her—Booth had been here. What if he had started drinking with her, and he had told Jane how Maura felt about her? Panic settled into Maura's stomach, and she said, "Booth must have come here after he was with me."

"With you?" Jane asked quickly. "Where?"

"Well, at the party. Then we went to a bar as well, but he hardly drank a thing. I'm afraid I can't say the same …in fact I called you—"

"Oh, yeah," Jane said. "Sorry, did you leave a message?"

"Yes…"

"Yeah, I erased it before I even listened to it. I'm sorry, I was in a weird, drunk mood last night! Do you remember what you called about?"

Torn between relief and disappointment, Maura laughed weakly. On the one hand, it would have been incredibly embarrassing for Jane to have heard Maura drunkenly proclaiming her love for the detective. But on the other hand, it could have been a nice way to segue into discussing it. The pressure would be off, and her cards would already have been on the table.

Before giving Maura the chance to answer her question, Jane spared her the pain of having to lie and said, "Ah, you were probably a little tipsy, right? So you probably don't remember. If it was something really important, you'd know. So? How about Booth, huh? You have fun last night?"

"Yes, yes I did. He's a lovely man."

"Yeah," Jane snickered, amused by the word choice. She went to pour herself a cup of coffee. "Quite lovely. He was just a lovely soldier, too. I'm sure the FBI picked him up because of his loveliness."

"Did you ever think that you might be a little _too _snide, Detective?" Maura asked.

"Did you ever think that _you _might be a little tooprim, doctor?" Jane countered, grinning at Maura over her shoulder.

"I haven't," Maura replied honestly. "While I may seem prim to you in some ways, Jane, I would venture to say that in some regards, I would be considered quite the opposite by other cultures. For example, the one Booth and I will be masquerading in tonight. When it comes to issues like sexuality, I am far more open than a so-called prim person might be."

Jane snorted and returned back to the counter with her coffee. "Yeah?" Her smile dropped when she took note of Maura's utterly serious expression. "Maura… did you sleep with Booth?"

"What? No! Where did you—?"

"Well I don't know, you're sitting there talking about your openness with Booth and how you had a lovely time with him last night!"

"Jane, we—we didn't even—"

"What? Kiss?"

"No! I mean yes! I mean no, we didn't _kiss_, or hug, or anything at all!"

"Good, because I don't think I could handle that."

"Handle what? Seeley and I as a couple?"

"Yeah, it'd be too weird. You guys are like the best friends that I've got, but from two totally different worlds. Booth's like my past, the army, and you're… well, Boston." _My present, my future… _"So if you guys like—did anything, it'd really screw me up."

Maura narrowed her eyes, unable to keep her annoyance out of her voice or expression at Jane's words. "It would screw _you _up? Jane, it's none of your business who I date _or_ who I sleep with, for that matter. Oh, Booth and I had a _very _romantic time last night, yes. I'm thinking that if all goes well with our undercover operation tonight, I might marry him! Just for fun!"

"Wait…you're being sarcastic, right?" Jane asked. She wasn't sobered up quite enough yet to keep up with Maura, who seemed impressively alert.

"_Lord, _Jane!" Maura groaned. "Yes! I meant it when I said _nothing _happened! I didn't slow-dance with him! I didn't take him home with me and make out on my couch for all hours of the night!"

"All hours of the night? Maura, I think you're overreacting h—"

"_I'm _overreacting? You're the one who couldn't even handle it if anything happened between two people you purportedly care very much about!"

"Purportedly? What the hell, Maura, you know I love you guys—"

Grabbing her bag, Maura leapt to her feet. "All right then! Let us make our own choices! Let us be adults, and do what want with who we want _when _we want to!" And with that, she made a very loud, very dramatic exit, trying not to think too hard about the irony of how immature her and Jane's behavior had just been.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Rest assured, folks, Thanksgiving is coming up soon (...in this story), and things will finally be brought to light. Somewhat, that is. One more hurdle to overcom before that, and it's Booth and Maura's undercover gig. If anyone is still reading this, that is.


	19. I'm Sorry

**A/N**: I had a major revelation last week. (And p.s., I haven't caught up on _Bones_' new season yet! Keep missing it. Gotta catch up.) Anyway, I saw a few old reruns of _Bones _for the first time in months, and holy crap have I been off. The relationship between Booth and Bones is so great, and I have not depicted that here at all. I think what happened is the most recent season left an awful sour taste in my mouth. They are bickering _constantly_, but not in a sexy, tension-filled way like our girls Rizzoli and Isles do. They fought and argued and it stressed me out, and that's what I had in my head when I started writing this. I've been way too hard on Bones, and for that, I seriously apologize. I also apologize for being so lousy with the whole updating business ...the AU comes easier to me, I think because those characters are easier to write. Ah, well. Thanks for sticking with me.

* * *

><p>Jane couldn't bring herself to think too much about how ludicrous her discussion with Maura that morning had been. Shortly after the doctor had left, Korsak had called to ask when Jane would be in for work. He and Frost were attending Alicia Howard's official funeral that night, while Jane, Booth, and Maura would be going to the memorial service held by Eden's family. As she drove to BPD, Jane was again reminded of the ever-present fight between her devotion to work and to her own life. It wasn't just work, though; it wasn't as if she was this ambitious career woman determined to put her job ahead of love or marriage or family. Her job consisted of solving murders, of stopping killers from striking again. Every minute of diverted attention could be deadly. It made her own problems seem so petty in comparison. Sure you might not have the girl of your dreams, but at least neither of you are dead…<p>

No matter how many times she told herself this through the years (and it was a lot), it was never enough. It always felt selfish to be wrapped up in her own affairs, in her own desperation for love, when there were people out there she had sworn to protect, depending on people like her, Korsak, and Frost to keep Boston safe. _Frost and Ferrell had to call it quits… Korsak had to go through three divorces …why should I expect things to go any better for me? _

_ Because_, piped up the smallest voice, the one sliver of hope that always remained, burning, inside of her. _Because Maura knows what it's like. She's right there with you, in this, all the time. If she can take the heat as your best friend, she could handle it as your lover…_

_ Right. If she were into me. _

Her conversation with Angela last night had made Jane determined. She had put this off long enough. She had waited, pined, wasted away long enough. It was high time to just man the hell up and tell Maura how she really felt. By keeping it repressed, she was getting nowhere. If Maura rejected her, yes it would hurt and yes it would suck, but Jane would get over it, she'd have to—like Booth had gotten over her. The relationship was an impossibility, and though it saddened him, he had to move on. If Maura couldn't ever conceive of being with her, it would be best to figure it out now. Why hadn't she just gotten it over with that morning? Why instead had she started making stupid accusations, why hadn't she run after Maura and apologized and gotten down on one knee and begged for another chance?

_ Why am I such a moron? _

Her phone was ringing, but she didn't notice until it had gone off about five times. "Rizzoli."

"Jane? It's Booth."

"Hey, I'm just on my way in."

"I'm here with Frost and Korsak. We found Edmund North. You know, the guy leasing the apartment where Alicia was killed."

"What! No way!"

"Maura was right, it's a pseudonym. Real name Jackson Howard."

"_Howard?_"

"Yes."

"Okay, but wait. The landlady said North was white…and English."

Frost's voice came in, and Jane guessed Booth had put his phone on speaker. "White yes, English, no. Pretty good at putting on an accent, though. Anyway, he's Senator Howard's half-brother."

"Shut up."

"It's the truth," sighed Korsak. "Apparently, they weren't on great terms."

"I should say not…I mean, a Senator's brother? Living in a hovel like that?"

"Well…there's the catch," said Booth. "Jackson Howard spent most of his time abroad, but when he's in the States, he would basically stick his place in Rhode Island, or… this seedy apartment in Boston, which I'm betting he picked for romantic trysts."

"In another state?"

"Well yeah, but it's Rhode Island. It's like thirty miles long, Jane. Besides, he's got women all over the eastern seaboard."

"Okay. So where is he now?"

"On his way here. He's the one who contacted us. Thought you and I could have a word with him."

"Awesome, I'll be there in a sec."

Jane arrived at BPD less than five minutes later, where she was immediately grabbed by Booth and brought into an interrogation room to meet Senator Howard's younger half-brother Jackson. He was quick to passionately deny having anything to do with Alicia's murder, but wanted merely to admit his shameful connection to the place where she had been found. Booth had been right in guessing he had secured the apartment for trysts, and had been hesitant to bring it up because he was afraid it would bring further scandal upon his brother. Negotiating discretion and drilling him for all the information they could get took much longer than it should have, but Jackson Howard was beyond anxious and not very easy to get answers from.

As soon as they were done with him, it meant more paper work, phone calls to the Senator, and going back to the scene of the crime. This car ride was the first time Booth and Jane had been alone all day, and she finally said, "Hey, I want to apologize."

"For what?"

"For being suspicious of you earlier, when you said you and Maura were going to go to that party together. She came by this morning, Maura."

Booth turned to look at her, his heart pounding anxiously. "She did?"

Jane snorted. "Yeah. I treated her like crap, though."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean—geez, Booth! I was all prepared to be smooth and cool and whatever, and I didn't expect her to come waltzing into my apartment when I was getting over a massive hangover and looked like total crap! I said stupid things, and she flared up and stalked out, and I haven't had the chance to see her all day. Even though she knows we got this break with Jackson, I'm worried that she'll think I'm avoiding her, and I don't want that. I want her to know how I feel, and I finally have the conviction to say it and I went and got her mad at me."

"Jane, I think if you give her a chance, you'll be surprised. She'll forgive you. And I really do have a good feeling about—you telling her how you feel."

There was silence between them as Jane eyed him suspiciously. "Did she say something to you last night?" she asked, not wanting to get her hopes up but desperate to know.

"What?"

"Maura. Did she say something last night to give you this confidence?"

It was hard to know in the spur of the moment whether or not he should tell the truth, and feeling the pressure, Booth quickly went the lying route. "Jane, don't be crazy. Maura hardly knows me. I'm just trying to give you some advice as a friend, okay? You'll feel much better if you just tell her, no matter the outcome." He stole another glance at Jane when she didn't answer, and saw that she was staring pensively out the window. She wasn't upset, she was just unsure. To try and ease the atmosphere, he said, "Did I tell you that to make things easier for Maura tonight, we're going to use her last name? So she won't have to lie and be Mrs. Booth, _I'll _be Bishop Isles."

That did get Jane to laugh. "Ha! Bishop Isles…that's good."

When they reached the complex, Jane and Booth went to speak with the landlady about the prestigious tenant she apparently had no idea she'd been leasing to. After another fruitless search of the apartment itself, they went back to HQ. They had gotten a list from Jackson of all the women who knew about the apartment's existence—anyone who knew he lived there, and could have told Alicia its whereabouts (the fact that she'd found it could not be a coincidence—someone would have tipped her off). Thankfully, the list of Boston dalliances was relatively short, leaving two women for Frost and Korsak to track down and three for Jane and Booth. They all reconvened at BPD at 5:00, all of them looking the worse for wear. Each settled with a cup of coffee from Angela (and Korsak with a lemon bar), they sat and exchanged notes.

"Alice Nordstrom's got an airtight alibi we already checked," said Frost, rubbing his forehead. "She was getting a root canal when Alicia was murdered."

"Paula Cronin's hasn't checked out yet," Korsak said through a mouthful of lemon. "But we haven't got any evidence that she did it, either."

Jane ticked their suspects off on her fingers: "Vanessa Parker was teaching her African-American lit class at BCU, Taylor West was visiting her parents in Ontario, and we're still waiting on Emily Willis." She sighed heavily and put her face in her hands. "_Man_, this is a mess. And see, this is the kind of stuff I want to throw in people's faces when they say people aren't meant to be monogamous. See what happens when you try to balance a bunch of women? It'll blow up in your face."

"And what, your niece will end up dead?" Frost asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Frost, I dunno," Jane groaned. "But I think we can all agree that Alicia somehow found out her uncle was up to something immoral, and wanted to confront him about it. Sure, a phone call probably would have sufficed, but—"

"Nah, it wouldn't have," Korsak cut in. "Senator Howard says he and Jackson haven't talked in years. I doubt Alicia would've had a way to contact him."

"Well that just makes it all the weirder that she knew where he was," Booth sighed.

"Sometimes I think the world would be a better place if people were more like the Doc," Korsak grunted. "No lies. Just upfront and honest."

Maura had appeared suddenly by their table, catching their attention only when she said, "Why thank you, Sergeant Korsak. That's a kind sentiment, if not a somewhat misguided one. I have often lamented my inability to lie when it could be more convenient for everyone at hand. Anyway, I came up here to remind Jane and Agent Booth that Eden's memorial service for Alicia starts in an forty-five minutes, and we should be getting ready to leave."

"Right," Booth muttered, as he and Jane stood up. "Korsak, when's the funeral?"

"An hour. Compare notes afterwards?"

"It's a plan," said Jane.

"Jane, may I have a word?" Maura asked.

Glancing at Booth, Jane said, "I thought you just said we needed to be going."

"We do. Let me drive you to your apartment. You can pick up your car when you and Seeley come back to headquarters to discuss your findings with Sergeant Korsak and Detective Frost."

"Uh…okay," Jane said quietly, following Maura outside the building. They walked in silence, but once they were inside Maura's car, Jane took a deep breath and said, "Look, Maura. I'm really sorry for all that garbage I said this morning at my apartment. I feel awful about it. I don't want you to think that I… I dunno, I mean I was just really out of line and I'm really, _really_ sorry."

Maura remained quiet until she had pulled out onto the street. "This is strange," she murmured. "I wanted to drive you so _I _could have a chance to apologize for the way _I _behaved. My reaction to your understandable if immature concern was just as immature and childish. I shouldn't have lashed out at you the way I did, and for that I sincerely want to apologize."

"You don't have to," Jane said quickly. "I was being crazy and pointlessly paranoid—it only made sense for you to react the way that you did."

"Aren't we a pair?" Maura chuckled softly.

A few moments later, Jane realized something: "Hey, I thought we were going to my apartment. This is the way to your place, isn't it?"

"Oh. Yes, it is. I changed my mind. You were planning on just wearing that to the service, weren't you?" Maura asked, nodding at Jane's outfit. When she got an affirmative response, she explained, "I need to change."

"Why? You look fine."

"Thank you. But if I take off my coat, I won't have any sleeves, and that's frowned upon by members of the Mormon community. A Bishop's wife would certainly not be caught dead outside of her bedroom with her shoulders or arms indecently exposed."

"Yeesh. If you say so."

When they reached Maura's home, they walked inside nearly in unison, and Jane wordlessly followed Maura towards her bedroom. "Could I borrow some eyeliner?" Jane asked. "I feel like I should be at least a little, you know…"

"Certainly. Use whatever you like," Maura said, nodding needlessly at her bureau.

This was a pattern they had fallen into over the course of their friendship, Jane being in the room while Maura changed. Jane was never fully comfortable with it (especially on rare occasions where Maura felt it necessary to disrobe completely), but Maura had always acted like it wasn't a big deal and that made Jane feel like she needed to be cool with it. As Jane sat at the bureau and looked through the doctor's wade array of eyeliners, Maura tried to pinpoint when she had started feeling like Jane was the person she needed to be with. She knew only that it had been recent, _fairly _recent. There had been an initial unspoken attraction, but now it was so much more than that. Somewhere, suddenly, she had gone from zero to sixty, from platonic to needing so much more. She wanted Jane to know and to be everything in her life—if she could just bring herself to open up, to date a cop again, to take the chance and risk the need to get another job if things didn't work out. What if they did? What sort of paradise might they inhabit?

She felt unusually uncomfortable as she pulled her dress up over her head and carefully laid it over a nearby chair. As she flipped through various hangers looking for something modest to wear, she didn't see Jane stealing a glance at her reflection in the mirror. Maura was now wearing only a champagne-colored slip and bra, seemingly unconscious of her state of dress as she pulled out a dress that was nearly a work of art itself in its swirling combinations of black, gray and white. The hemline would reach beneath her knees and the sleeves were fashionably capped.

"It's been a little weird, hasn't it?" she suddenly asked, pulling on the dress.

"What has?" Jane asked, finally settling on an eyeliner that professed to be plain black.

"Having Booth and his team here."

"Oh. Yeah, a little, I guess. He's been really great to work with, though."

"Yes, I would imagine so. I've enjoyed having Dr. Brennan's input, as well."

"Yeah, I thought you guys'd get along."

Maura couldn't finish zipping the dress up all the way, but a glance told her that Jane was still carefully applying eyeliner and would be unavailable to help at the moment. Walking towards her dresser to pick out a silver bracelet, she said, "You didn't say much about Angela. Your date, I mean."

"Not much to say."

"You got drinks with her, fooled around the couch a bit…" Maura snapped the bracelet around her wrist, and the sound nearly made Jane jump. "Are you going to see her again?"

_This is it. This is your chance to tell her no, that you'll never see another woman again—you'll never even __look__ at another woman again—if she'll have you! Tell her, tell her, TELL HER! She might surprise you! _"Uh… honestly? No, I don't think so," Jane muttered, trying to make herself heard over the sound of her fiercely hammering heart. "Besides, she's in D.C., right?"

"If you were really interested in pursuing her, that wouldn't be a real problem."

Jane laughed softly. "Yeah, but we've only had one date, and she'll be back over there after the holiday, so what's the point?"

"There doesn't have to be a point. A release could be the point."

"I don't want a release," Jane muttered, sticking the cap back on the eyeliner. "Angela knows that now. She's really cool, but just not… she's not who I'm looking for."

"Jane." When Maura said her name, Jane stood and turned around, fighting not to throw her arms desperately around this woman. This was occasionally hard enough to do on its own, but something in Maura's tone just now had sounded very bedroom-ish, and this impression was aided by the deep, hard look she was sending Jane's way. She took a breath and said, "Zip me up?"

Jane let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and walked over. "Yeah, sure," she murmured. She placed a hand gently at Maura's waist to keep herself and the dress steady as she gave the zipper a tug in the right direction. Why was this affecting her so much now? She had done this act for Maura countless times before, and had always managed to keep it together—but now Jane's legs were trembling, her breathing was unsteady, her vision clouded.

_ She saw herself doing the reverse of this action, unzipping Maura's dress and marveling at the expanse of smooth skin it would reveal to her. Maura turned and put her slender arms around Jane's neck, pulling her into a passionate kiss, fingers curling in Jane's hair. "Maura, tell me you know what this means to me…" "I do." _

The images flashed through Jane's mind but then the dress was zipped up, and Maura shifted to walk away. But before she could, Jane placed her other hand on the other side of Maura's waist, holding her still. "Wait," she whispered.

But she didn't elaborate, and Maura didn't ask her to. Jane could see them in the full-length mirror, her hands gripping Maura's waist from behind after having helped her put on her dress. They looked like a couple. Standing like this, she _felt _as if they were a couple. _This is what it could be like all the time. You could hold her like this whenever you wanted to, you could kiss her whenever you wanted to… come on, Rizzoli, don't you want to know? I mean look, she hasn't moved yet. _Jane glanced at the mirror again, and saw that Maura was also staring at their reflection. Rather than let this encourage her, Jane took a step back, releasing Maura and running a hand through her hair.

"Well," she said quietly, walking past Maura to the door. "We should get going, huh?"

"Yes," Maura said, grabbing her purse and catching up. "We should."

"All right, let's g…oh, wait," Jane said as they left the house and Maura locked up. "Shouldn't you and Booth arrive together? I mean, if other people there are supposed to think you're a couple?"

Maura frowned. "Oh gosh, I didn't think of that."

Jane took her phone out of her pocket and dialed Booth. After a quick conversation with him, she gathered that he had come to the same realization, and told him to come by Maura's house and pick up his undercover. She hung up and explained the plan to Maura, who said, "So you'll just come with us, then?"

"No, I'll take his car," Jane muttered. "It would be weird for a detective to tag along with the Bishop who's supposed to have just flown in from Utah, wouldn't it?"

"Oh yes, I didn't think of that, either."

"What's the matter with us tonight?" Jane asked, laughing uneasily. "This is obvious stuff. It's like my brain's switched off or something."

"Jane, you… you _know _there isn't a switch on the—"

"Yes, Maura, I know," Jane sighed, wearily sitting down on the single step in front of Maura's door. Maura would have sat as well, but it would have dirtied her dress, so she remained leaning against the door. Both of them stared down the road, waiting for Booth's car. "Should be here soon," Jane said after a short pause. "He's uh… his hotel's not too far." She cleared her throat. "So how about him and Dr. Brennan, huh?"

"It certainly lends credence to the theory that opposites attract. I feel sorry for Seeley," Maura said. "He has made it clear that he would like to enter into some kind of relationship with Dr. Brennan, but she refuses to let him in … in that way. Since they want different things from relationships, I mean. It's unfortunate, don't you think?"

"Very," Jane snorted, anxiously rubbing her knuckles. "But, uh—it was brave of him to put all his cards out on the table like that, you know? Tell her how he felt? He was the same way with me, all those years ago. Bottled it up for a while, but then just spilled it all. I remember being so impressed with him because of that. All the guys admired Booth 'cause he was brave on the field, you know? Wasn't scared of a thing out there, and could always get the job done. But when he told me how he felt, and I was still in the closet …I remember thinking, wow. _That's _brave. Opening up and sharing your deepest feelings with someone else, when there's a chance they might not be reciprocated?" She uttered a shaky, hollow laugh. "That takes courage."

Maura shifted uneasily on her feet. "Courage comes in different forms," she said.

"Yeah, I guess." Another long silence passed, and Jane was restless—she rubbed her fingers together, tapped one foot, and at one point rocked slightly against the wind, just waiting. Waiting for Booth to arrive, or waiting for that courage to finally get her in its grip and force out the words she was dying to say. She was far too scared to turn around and look at Maura, to try and read her expression. That'd be too awkward, anyway; better to stay as she was, where she was. But after more than a minute or two had passed, she couldn't take it anymore and had to say something, _any_thing. "Maura?"

The response was barely audible: "Yes, Jane?"

"Do you, um…" She rocked forward again, clenching one hand into a fist and resting her chin on it. "About Tommy…"

"What about him?" Maura asked softly.

"Or even Booth, if you _did _like him, which I wouldn't blame you for," Jane said. "I've been a real ass about everything. I should be happy for you, if you liked Tommy. He's my brother and I love him, and you're my best friend, so I should want what's best for both of you. I shouldn't freak out when you try to dress nice for him, or make him happy on his birthday or any of that stuff—hell, he couldn't ever do better than you."

"Jane…"

"Look, I don't wanna stand in the way of a great romance, okay?" Jane said shortly, finally getting to her feet and turning around, hands in her pockets in a would-be casual manner. But the look on Maura's face disarmed her; it wasn't humored, jocular, or even surprised. It was somber, which was not an expression Maura usually wore when Jane was going on one of her nonsensical rants. "I mean, you were right, opposites attract. Tommy's your opposite, and uh… you…"

"I like Tommy," Maura said softly, causing Jane's heart to sink in despair. "A lot."

Booth's car had just turned onto the far end of Maura's street, and Jane turned fully to look at it. "Oh, good. That's good, Maura, really."

Maura stepped down and took Jane's elbow, trying and failing to get the woman to look at her. Her voice came out in a strangled whisper when she said, "But I love you."

The words took a moment to sink in, and then there it was again. Jane turned and stared Maura in the eye, her insides coiling uncomfortably. Why was Maura Isles always so damn hard to read when it really mattered? Women could say "I love you" to each other, to friends, and not have any connotation to it other than "you're my best friend." Normally, if Maura had said that, Jane would've just shrugged it off as just such a comment. But combined with that tone and those eyes and that solemn countenance, it suddenly felt like so much more. Her hand had fallen from Jane's elbow and they looked into each other's eyes, tacitly trying to get any inkling of understanding across before Booth drove up and interrupted this moment.

They were nearly too late. Booth's car was approaching, slowing down, and Jane took another step towards it. "Maura," she said in a level voice, willing herself to be braver than she felt, praying that she could be clear and hold it together, "You know if… you know… you could have any Rizzoli you wanted."


	20. You

**A/N**: Thanks for sticking with me, people! Oh my gosh, I suck at updating this. Kind of a mess, sorry. I think I should be able to end it in a few chapters. (I know the updates have been sporadic, but I promise I _will _finish this. Soon, because it's stressing me out! Ha, ha. But seriously.)

* * *

><p>When Booth got out of his car, Jane practically snatched the keys out of his hand and drove off. He raised an eyebrow at this odd behavior, and not much was cleared up when he turned his gaze towards Maura and saw her standing in the yard, looking shell-shocked. She did not seem to notice his presence, even when he walked right up to her.<p>

"Maura? Anyone home?"

The question pulled her out of her reverie. "Hm? Yes, I'm home. Let's go."

"What uh… what just happened?" Booth asked slowly as Maura walked robotically to her car. She reached the door and handed him the key, feeling too dazed to drive. He helpfully opened her door for her and prodded her back in the direction of the car before going in to the driver's side and getting in. Maura silently handed him the detachable GPS she kept in her car, and he warily entered Eden's address inside of it, glancing up occasionally at Maura's stoic expression. "Seriously. Maura? Something happen just now?"

"I think…" She furrowed her brow and finally turned to look at him. "Seeley, I think Jane feels the same way I do."

"Wait. Like you mean… you think she's attracted to you?"

Maura finally turned to look at him. "She said I could have any Rizzoli I wanted."

Booth laughed triumphantly. "Yes! See? She likes you!"

"She likes me."

He laughed again, pulling out of the driveway. "She likes you."

The words sunk in, and a smile of disbelief found its way onto Maura's face. "She likes me!"

She granted Booth a high-five, but before she get too much more excited about it, Maura felt annoyance seeping in. It wasn't so much disheartening that initiative-taking, bold and brash Jane Rizzoli had taken a sort of chicken's-way out of telling her. That was fine, it was cute, in its own way. But couldn't she have at least waited until after this memorial service was over? They were supposed to be in mourning, particularly Maura, who was going undercover as someone the dead girl would have been very close to. And she had to pretend to be married to Seeley. She had to be reserved and respectful and able to make inquiries when all she wanted to do was take Jane someplace—any place—they could be alone. A talk was very much in order, but there could be no denying that what she wanted most, right now, was for Jane to kiss her.

But it would have to wait. It would have to wait for a _memorial service_—gosh, how cheerful.

The Carlisle's had initially been skeptical of the undercover plan, not enjoying the prospect of lying, but Eden had convinced them that as it was all for a good cause, it would be fine. The younger children were left in the dark, as their parents didn't think they could be trusted to keep a secret, and so thought when Seeley and Maura arrived that they were really meeting Eden's own bishop away from home and his wife.

Maura found herself shaking more hands than she could count, and that was just from the Carlisle family itself. The house was enormous and full to bursting with people, making it very difficult to spot Jane. She and Booth must have gone through at least three rooms before she finally saw Jane, leaning against the wall by a very long table that had been decorated with photos of Alicia, many of them appearing to be from various church activities. Jane was deep in conversation with a middle aged couple, both of whom looked appropriately emotional. Knowing it was probably wrong to be thinking of this right now, Maura couldn't help but adore the look of pure, sweet sympathy on Jane's face as she talked to these people, listening to their loss while no doubt also finding tactful ways to extract the kind of information she needed.

It was a few moments before Maura realized someone was pulling on her dress. She looked down to see a young blonde girl, maybe four or five, trying to get her attention. "Yes, sweetie?" she asked, recognizing her as one of the Carlisles' younger children.

"Are you _really _the Bishop's wife?" the girl asked. Maura instantly worried that she had somehow blown her cover—_what could a child have picked up on?_—but she was put quickly at ease when the girl pointed at the woman Jane was talking to and said, "That's _our _Bishop's wife. She's old. You're way prettier."

"Oh, well thank you, dear," Maura laughed softly. "Remind your name?"

"Kirtley."

"Right. That's…" _Unfortunate. _"A very unique name!"

"Thank you!" Kirtley chirped, guessing by Maura's smile and kind tone that it had been a compliment.

Maura glanced at Booth, who was talking animatedly to three women (all of whom appeared to find him quite interesting), before looking back down at Kirtley. "Did you know Alicia very well?"

"She's Eden's best friend," Kirtley said simply. "Oh, look!"

She pointed to the other side of the spacious room, where it looked like Eden was trying to get everyone's attention. Maura turned and saw that most of the people who had gathered for the service were now crowded into this room, waiting, listening. Booth walked back to Maura and, for the sake of their cover, took her hand.

"Uh, some people have been asking if I was going to give a eulogy or something," Eden said, her voice wavering with tears. "And I don't know if I'm supposed to or not, given that this is a m-memorial service and not a… a funeral. But I did feel like I should maybe say some words to get us started off as we remember A.J. I've already heard so many stories from you all, sharing times she has touched your lives or helped you in some way. Alicia was great at that, wasn't she? She wanted us all to be…" Her voice caught with emotion, and she accepted some tissues from her father, who was standing nearby. "To be joyful. It feels weird to talk about joy at a time like this, in a place like this, but considering the kind of person Alicia was and the holiday we are celebrating tomorrow—thank you all for coming despite that, by the way—it seems appropriate.

"Alicia was always happy, before she joined this church, too. But she said since joining it, she had learned to tell the difference between happiness and joy. Happiness is temporal and temporary, easily revoked and not always restored. _Joy_, though, is eternal. It is divine. What we have lost today can be given back in even better condition. That is how I _know _that Alicia is still with us, and is looking down on us. She would advise us all to think of that difference between joy and happiness. Don't live in the now. Maintain your eternal perspective."

Maura could feel Jane's eyes on her. When she dared to glance over, she saw Jane with her arms folded respectfully, but indeed looking at her. Jane hadn't meant to stare, but she was unable to help it once Eden had started talking about all this. Her job made her happy, her family made her happy, Jo Friday's excitement made her happy—but Maura was the only person, the only thing, the only force that had ever brought her true joy. Despite their somber surroundings, Jane managed the smallest of rueful smiles, and Maura weakly, briefly returned it.

"Alicia wanted to major in sociology or philosophy," Eden continued. "She hadn't decided yet. But she was very, very interested in the human experience." She shrugged. "What _is _the human experience? What sets us apart from the creatures who crawl on the earth, who fly in the air, who live in the ocean? For a scientific distinction, you might ask Dr. Isles," she said, nodding at Maura. "My bishop's wife, who is quite brilliant, if you ask the Bishop!" A few people laughed politely. "And Bishop Isles, you could ask him for a spiritual response, because he is a worthy, devout, and wise individual who is smart, and very good at his job." Eden turned and looked over at Jane. "I'm sure plenty of you noticed Detective Rizzoli tonight, who asked very respectfully if she could join us in our service. I know she is very intent on doing her job, and doing it well, but I know there is more to it than that. She's not just here because Alicia was the daughter of a politically important man. She cares about Alicia and what happened to her. She cares about the impact it's had on all of us, on me, on everyone. She cares about the human experience. We all bring different strengths to the table, guys. We need each other. Please. Please remember God did not intend for us to live our lives in solitude. Alicia always celebrated our beautiful differences as a species, as a nation, as a religion. Experience life. That's the best way you can give her tribute."

After closing in Jesus' name, the congregated mourners gave a loud, resounding "amen." Booth turned to Maura and said, "If I was still a gambling man, I'd be willing to bet real money that Korsak and Frost aren't gonna hear anything as nice as that at Alicia's official funeral."

Before Maura could respond, Kirtley got her attention again. "Are you really a doctor?" she asked, looking extremely impressed.

"Yes dear, I am."

Kirtley was fascinated, and didn't let Maura out of her sight. In fact, she wound up taking Maura's hand and showing her around the house, introducing her to the occasional person but mostly intent on pointing out things in their house that she liked. Maura figured it was safe to go along, as she would be of very little help in assisting Booth to get the kind of information he wanted from these people. In fact, this was vastly better—people would have been bound to ask her things if she was with Booth, to send questions her way she wouldn't have been able to answer well: how many kids do you have? What are their names? Where do they go to school? How long have you been married? What was your favorite memory about Alicia? Who are you staying with while you're in Boston? Perhaps one question at a time would have been doable, but Maura had already exhausted herself with introductions when they had first arrived. Following Kirtley around was much less stressful, because she would ask things without expecting them to be answered, often changing the subject halfway through asking one.

"And here's where we keep the pets!" Kirtley announced, leading Maura into one of the basement's many rooms. "Except Brig, though. Brig's the dog. He sleeps outside. Sticky's the lizard, Pepper and Salt are the frogs, and Birdie's the parakeet! We have one more pet, but he's not allowed in here. Mom's in this room too much and she doesn't like him."

"Like who?"

"Well, Brock said he didn't have a name, but I called him Bob," Kirtley said. "Brock used to be Eden's boyfriend. Actually, I think they were gonna get married! But they didn't. But he was going to go work with a band or something, and his mom said she wouldn't keep Bob in the house if Brock wasn't there to take care of him, so Eden said we'd look after him. Mom was really mad, 'cause Bob's kind of freaky," she added in a whisper. "That's why he has to stay in Eden's room, but Eden doesn't care. She's not afraid."

"What exactly _is _Bob?" Maura asked, expecting perhaps some type of snake.

"A spider!" Kirtley giggled, looking as if the mere word made her feel delightfully wicked. "Or some kind of spider, like a… a ten—a tarant…"

"A tarantula?"

"Yes! A tarant-la!"

For the first time in their impromptu tour, Maura crouched down to be at Kirtley's eye level. She remembered Hodgins identifying the piece of the arthropod she and Brennan had found on Alicia's body as belonging to a type of tarantula—a it had had 'Zebra' in its name, if her memory was correct. Maura asked Kirtley if she could take her to Eden's bedroom to meet Bob, and Kirtley happily obliged. So they went back up the stairs, through the labyrinthine halls of the house, and up another staircase that ultimately led to Eden's room. Seemingly proud of the fact that the tarantula didn't scare her, Kirtley seemed to take great pleasure in being able to show it to Maura.

"He's kinda cool looking, isn't he?" Kirtley asked.

"Very," Maura murmured, getting her phone out of her purse to take a picture. Bob's long legs were striped; he could very easily be the species the team had been searching for. "I don't suppose you know where Brock got Bob, Kirtley?"

"Nope."

Before consenting to take Maura back downstairs, Kirtley insisted showing her the room she shared with her brother. Once they rejoined the service, Maura asked the girl if she'd wait for a moment while she went to speak to "the Bishop."

"Hey, where've you been?" Booth asked as Maura walked up to him.

"Eden's sister has been giving me the grand tour," Maura said. Then she lowered her voice to ensure nobody would eavesdrop on their conversation. "Booth, do you have Hodgins' phone number? I want to send him this picture."

She showed him the photo of Bob, and Booth's eyes widened. "Holy crap—you think that's—?"

"I have no idea. I need Hodgins to identify it." He quickly gave Maura Hodgins' number, and she sent him the picture. "What do you think this might mean?" she whispered, looking on as Eden picked Kirtley up in her arms to give her a kiss on the cheek. "I don't like to hypothesize, but… it's possible we found part of that creature on Alicia, and it regenerated its leg."

"You think Eden might've done it?" Booth whispered.

"That's not my job, Seeley."

"She's an acting major, you know," Booth said. "That's what someone told me. So she could just be covering up really good."

"Well—Kirtley said the tarantula's actually Brock's. Eden's just been looking after it."

"She's been looking after her ex-fiancé's pet tarantula?" Booth asked, raising his eyebrows disbelievingly. "Did she say for how long?"

"Er…no. Just that he needed someone to watch it once he started working for a band."

"For ZZ Top, yeah," Booth said. "I'll have to ask Angela how long they've been on the road. I'm gonna go talk to Jane, tell her about this spider thing."

He gave Maura's shoulder a quick squeeze and headed towards Jane (and as soon as he departed, Kirtley made a beeline for her again). He passed a couple of bored-looking teenage boys, and he caught one of them muttering, "…glad that faggot fiancé of hers didn't show up."

Booth was about to chastise the kid for his language, but Eden's mother beat him to it. Showing up seemingly out of nowhere, she said, "Hey! Do you bless the sacrament with that mouth?" When stunned silence was the boy's only response, she continued, "If I hear you using language like that in my house again, Robert, I will have to ask you to leave. Bishop Isles," she said to Booth. "Were you looking for someone?"

"Uh—just needed to get over to Detective Rizzoli, thanks," he said.

He had nearly reached Jane when Maura came up to him. Not wanting to chance being overheard (this part of the room was significantly more crowded), she merely handed him her phone, which had a message from Hodgins: _Not it. That's a Brazilian White Striped Spider. We're looking for a Costa Rican Zebra one. Still pretty rare, though—you may want to find out where they got it!_

"Can't believe him," Booth muttered, handing Maura back the phone. "We're in a murder investigation, and he wants us to find out how we might get him a rare tarantula!"

"I think his point might have been that if we find out where Brock got _this _rare breed of tarantula, we might find a dealer who would've had a Costa Rican Zebra," Maura deduced.

"…oh. That makes sense," Booth said as they walked up to Jane.

"Bishop," said Jane, gravely shaking his hand. "I—"

"Oh, Bishop," interrupted a man Booth had been talking to earlier. "You don't know her, but Detective Rizzoli is just the person you'd want working on a case like this. She's kind of famous in Boston."

Booth smiled, knowing how awkward Jane was about compliments. "Really!"

"Yeah! Once she shot a rogue cop _through her own stomach _to—"

"Uh, sir?" Jane cut in, looking very embarrassed. "Please don't. This night is supposed to be about Alicia." Looking sufficiently humbled, the man shuffled away. "Don't listen to him," Jane said. "I'm just a cop. No big." She cleared her throat. "Sister Isles, actually I was wondering if I could talk to you."

"Right now?" Maura asked, raising her eyebrows. _Is this really the appropriate place?_

"Afterwards." Looking utterly serious, she mouthed word, _alone_.

"Certainly, detective."

The service lasted about another hour before the final stragglers had left. Booth offered to stay behind and assist in cleaning up, and though the Carlisles insisted it wasn't necessary (behold, the plus side to having nine kids), he said it would give him a good opportunity to discuss things he had overheard with them, maybe get some insight on their perspective. This they agreed to, and Booth asked Jane if she wouldn't mind taking Maura home. Jane quietly said she'd do it, and she gave Booth back his own car keys and Booth tossed Maura's back to her.

"Guess you're driving, then," Jane said as she and Maura walked outside. The night air was wonderfully refreshing after being stuffed in a house with crowded with so many people. It was cold enough that Jane could see her breath when she had spoken. All she got by way of response was a stiff nod from Maura, and they both got into the car. They drove in silence to the end of the street, at which time Jane decided she just needed to say something. If she got out even just one word, it would force her to keep talking, to go, to get it all out. "I…" The singular syllable hung in the air for a while, alone, sad sounding. Both women were staring out straight ahead, which Jane had to admit was not quite the way she wanted this conversation to go, but she couldn't stop now. "I realize I didn't really …uh… do that right."

"Do what right?" Maura asked. When her only answer was an embarrassed silence, she pressed, "Are you referring to the statement you made just before Booth arrived? About my having any Rizzoli I wanted?"

"Yes, I'm referring to that," Jane said flatly, idly kneading her hands. "It just kind of came out of me—I was being stupid. Dramatic. That's not what I wanted to say."

"You take it back?" Maura clarified, her heart sinking.

"No, no," Jane said quickly. She took a deep breath and sighed heavily. This was all coming out wrong. "That's not _how _I wanted to say it."

"To say what?" Maura asked.

"I…" Jane sighed again. "Maura, pull over."

"Why?"

"I can't talk to you like this; I can't _tell _you like this. Stop the car."

Maura pulled over when she got the chance a few moments later, and Jane got out of the car. They had recently re-entered a part of town she knew well, and making sure that Maura was behind her, she headed for a bench that was a few yards away. As it was the evening before Thanksgiving, there were hardly any people out at all, except those driving quickly by for last-minute grocery store runs. It was dark, but a nearby streetlamp provided all the light Jane needed to sit down and look at Maura when the woman sat anxiously next to her.

"Okay," Jane said in a shallow whisper. She hadn't intended to say the word aloud, but it just issued out of her, spoken as she tried to calm herself down. _Don't be nervous. Maura must have at least some idea of what this is about; I mean, you were pretty straightforward. And she hasn't done anything to indicate a necessarily negative reaction, right? She'd have stopped you before now. _With this in mind, Jane felt slightly more emboldened and said, "Maura. I've been thinking a lot lately."

"Well that's your job, isn't it?" Maura asked innocently. "It requires a lot of thought and consideration."

Jane smiled lightly. "Not about my job. About you. Well…" She snorted a short laugh, rubbing her neck and looking away. "I think about you a lot, regardless. I've been thinking a lot about, uh… you and me. Our—relationship. I gotta be honest, Maura, I hope this doesn't freak you out—I don't think it's fair just calling it a friendship. I mean I know we're not like, uh, lovers, but sometimes I… I dunno, it just doesn't feel right only calling you a friend. You were on my case about Angela, and you've asked me before why I don't settle down. And most of the time, there was at least _some _truth to the excuses I gave you. I _do _worry about how my job affects relationships. I _do _frustrate potential partners by putting off, uh… real intimacy. I _do _struggle to make real connections. And I think I—I _know _I've not been living up to the potential of the human experience. My potential joy."

She was now looking Maura cautiously in the eye. A long pause followed her statement, giving Maura the opportunity to say Jane should stop, that this was going in the wrong direction. But she remained silent, her lips pursed and her brow furrowed in serious contemplation of what she was hearing and otherwise observing. Her eyes did not leave Jane's, and her silence tacitly indicated that Jane should go on.

So, in a forcedly steady voice, Jane continued: "I have been holding myself back, Maura. I have been denying myself that joy. Because I—I…" Tears came upon her out of nowhere, and she impatiently brushed them aside, grasping Maura's hand when the woman extended it. "I just love you so much," she finally said in a weak whisper. She bent over and quickly pressed her lips to the back of Maura's hand before looking up tearfully to catch her gaze. "I _love _you, Maura. I know I've said that before, because friends can say that to each other, and we _are_ friends. But I really want it to be more, and that's why I haven't been able to make it work with anyone else, because they're not you. Because …you're it. I never get tired of talking to you, of _being _with you. Whenever something in my life goes right, you're the first person I want to tell. I want you to make you proud, to make you happy." Cards on the table. "Right now—for a long time—I've been trying to look in my future, and I can't see it without you being seriously involved. Even more seriously than you are now, I mean. I just see your face."

There was so much more she could have said, so much more she had planned on saying: that she often considered her meaningful conversations and hang-out sessions with Maura more inviting and romantic than most of the time she had spent with other women. That she dreamt of happiness with Maura, but had been too afraid of admitting it and ruining everything. That she needed to finally get this off her chest, because even if Maura rebuked her, at least Jane would _know _for sure, and then could maybe finally make a real connection with someone, on every level. But she never got the chance.

Maura had cut her off with a kiss before Jane could keep rambling.

Her right hand was still clutching Jane's on her lap, and her left had risen up to touch Jane's cheek and pull her closer. And Jane melted. She had always thought was a silly, cheesy way to describe a feeling, but in retrospect she knew it was the only word appropriate to use. Maura had initiated a kiss, and Jane completely melted to her touch. She felt breathless and full of life all at once, barely able to react because she was basically in shock. Maura broke off the kiss but did not pull back; she briefly wetted her lips and allowed Jane the time to instigate action, which she did by gently shifting her free hand to the back of Maura's neck and turning her head slightly for another kiss. Maura's eyes closed again in wonderful ecstasy, her arms moving around Jane's back, to hold her close and keep her close.

When Jane broke off the kiss for air, Maura mumbled something incoherent. "What?" Jane whispered.

"I said I want to be with you," Maura said in a rushed, quiet voice. "Jane, I want to be with you."

Jane laughed nervously through her tears. "Oh, my gosh. Are you serious?"

Maura's brow furrowed again. "Why would you think I wasn't being serious?"

"I can't…I just can't believe it," Jane said weakly, stroking her thumb across Maura's cheek.

"I didn't know it until relatively recently myself," Maura said. "But I know it now, Jane. I was afraid …I was afraid, too. But I want to do this."

"'This,' like…"

Maura smiled and leaned in for another kiss. "This."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: So, yeah. One more little hurdle in the future (a.k.a. Thanksgiving and all the fun drinking/drama that holiday often involves), but then Rizzles will be together for-eva, and hopefully I'll find a way to make B&B work, haha.


	21. In Love

**A/N**: Hey y'all- not sure when the next update will be for any of my stories, because I've got carpal tunnel or something and typing is, well, not very easy haha. Hopefully I'll kick it soon and be able to get more up! Despite the drama in this chapter, this story is almost over. Thanks for sticking it out.

* * *

><p>When Jane woke up the next morning, it took her a few disoriented moments to place her surroundings. This was not home. This was not her bed. She screwed her eyes tightly shut and upon opening them again, realized she was in Maura's bedroom. Her heart pounded as she sat up and saw that she was in a tank top and a borrowed pair of pajama pants that Maura probably never wore—where <em>was <em>Maura? The imprint next to Jane clearly indicated someone had been lying there, but that wasn't what confirmed to her that Maura had in fact been there…

_ They had gotten back into Maura's car and driven speedily back to her house, where Maura offered Jane a beer and poured herself a glass of wine. It felt nearly routine as they drank silently, sitting opposite each other with their hands clasping over the table. What wasn't routine was when Jane left her can half full and pulled Maura into a kiss. _

_ Her normal code of conduct did not apply. This was not a first date. She and Maura had been seeing each other emotionally for months. She could not believe how amazing this felt, how overwhelmingly right. No—that, she __could__ believe. What she couldn't believe was that Maura wanted this as well, that Maura was the one gripping her tighter, bringing her closer, still instigating the action. When Jane would pull back for breath, Maura would be the one to bring her back in, using deceptively soft lips to keep Jane addicted, increasingly anxious. Jane was vaguely aware that Maura was walking her to the bedroom, occasionally allowing them to stop, for Jane to hold her against the wall, to let her hands wander down to Maura's waist as she kissed her neck. _

_ Maura likewise felt as though she were in a daze. She couldn't have been more wrong in her initial, irrational fear that all female cops loved the same. Vivian felt the pressure of being in a man's field just as much as Jane did, and they both tried to overcompensate by being tough and hard-edged. But the thing was that while Vivian ultimately allowed that stone-cold persona to envelope her everyday life, with Jane it was only a façade. Oh yes, she could snarl and she could shoot straight and her bark was just as bad as her bite, but only if you had it coming to you. She could be sweet. She could be soft. She could be gentle and even nurturing in her own endearingly awkward way. _

_ They were kissing, and enthusiastically at that, but it wasn't possessive or heated. There was no fight to have the upper hand, to exercise control. Jane's hands weren't trying to keep Maura in line, they were simply trying to touch as much of the woman as she could. Her fingers weren't hesitant, they were reverent. Adoring every moment of this. Maura had never been one to understand tacit communication very well, but all of this she could understand perfectly, without Jane uttering a single word besides Maura's name. _

_ Somehow they had wound up in the bedroom, and Jane's blazer and shirt were on the floor, leaving her in a tank top and slacks. The fingers of one hand had clutched the zipper on Maura's dress and started tugging down. _

_ "Bed?" Maura whispered, her breath breaking against Jane's lips._

_ Jane's hand stilled, and she tightened her grip on Maura, embracing her. She still wanted to do this right, to give Maura time, to make sure they didn't rush this. "Sleep," she said softly. Just to make sure Maura didn't think Jane was backing out or had made a mistake, she kissed the doctor one more time on the lips. _

_ Maura went into the bathroom to change and brush her teeth, gesturing at a drawer that contained rarely-worn sleepwear Jane might be comfortable with. They had a good laugh over the pants she had chosen to replace her slacks—they were a few inches too short in the leg, but when Jane rolled them up to her knees anyway, it didn't matter. _

_ Once the lights went off, Jane really had intended to go right to sleep, but she couldn't help herself when Maura slipped under the sheets next to her, smelling fresh and wearing silk. Lying on her side, Jane reached for her and pulled Maura into a slow, sensual kiss. She hadn't intended for it to last very long, but the choice was essentially taken out of her hands when Maura responded by wrapping an arm and a leg around her, hooking her leg behind Jane's knees and half-lying on top of her. Jane's hand drifted back to Maura's waist, and she stopped only when her fingers ghosted across Maura's thigh. _

_ "Maura…" she whispered. _

_ Understanding, Maura shifted off slightly, keeping her arm across Jane's stomach, and whispering into the crook of her neck, "Good night, Jane."…_

So where could Maura be now? Jane listened for the strains of a shower but heard nothing. Had Maura panicked? Changed her mind? Jane's first instinct was always to second-guess herself, and that proved especially true when she was groggy and alone. She got quickly out of bed and walked into the main part of the house, where she eventually saw Maura standing in the kitchen. It took her all of three seconds to realize Maura had just put the turkey in the oven—_oh yeah, it's Thanksgiving morning_—and when Maura turned and caught sight of Jane, her face broke into such a wide, beautiful smile that Jane could confidently feel last night was not a fluke or a mistake.

"Good morning, Jane," she said softly, happily, walking around the kitchen island to give Jane a swift kiss on the lips.

"Uh, good morning?" Jane mumbled back.

Maura raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

"I just…" Jane chuckled lightly and sat down wearily at the table. "Last night. We…" She looked up at Maura for help, but Maura just looked curiously back at her. "We, uh… did things."

"Yes, that's true. We did a great many things."

"I mean you and I did things. And I want to just—I dunno, make sure that… we're on the same page regarding those things."

Maura sat down next to Jane, taking one hand between her own. "Jane, I haven't experienced anything quite like last night in… I don't even know how long. I couldn't even approximate an estimate. It was so many things at once, so many things coming together. All of it felt perfect."

"Okay," Jane whispered with a light smile. "I just wanted to hear you say it. After all, it wasn't particularly encouraging when I woke up and you were gone!"

"I had to put the turkey in the oven!" Maura laughed. "We have quite a few people coming over, you know."

_We_. The word made Jane's grin widen. "Yeah, I do know," she said, leaning in to give Maura a quick kiss (and it was a mark of Maura's devotion that she did not turn away at the morning breath). "Maura, I just kind of can't believe this happened. If you had any idea…"

"And idea of what?"

"How long I've wanted this," Jane murmured, running her thumb along the back of Maura's fingers. "I really …I really want us to…" _Be together. _"To do this."

"Well then," Maura said, "rest assured we're on the same page."

Jane was too giddy to question things further. How long had Maura considered this relationship a possibility? How was she suddenly so open to being with a woman romantically when as far as Jane knew, she had never been with one before? Was this too easy?

None of those questions even occurred to her as Maura put on some '60s pop that they danced and prepped to. While Maura was counting out cups of yams, Jane wrapped her arms around her waist from behind, laughing and kissing her neck. She had no doubt that sex with Maura was going to be amazing whenever they wound up having it, but this right now was what she had been looking forward to the most: the simple freedom to kiss Maura whenever she wanted to, grab her and hold onto her whenever she wanted to, making her intentions known without having to worry about retribution. She let out a hoarse laugh when Maura flicked a spoonful of cream in her face, saying something about Jane breaking up her concentration.

Before Jane could retaliate, her mother appeared suddenly in the kitchen, looking vastly amused by the amount of fun the girls seemed to be having. She explained she had come in for a glass of juice before taking a shower, lest Maura think she was slacking off on her promise to make dessert. After her shower she would return to get started on the first of many pies. On her way back out to the guest house, she made a casual remark regarding her surprise that Maura had been able to convince Jane to get up and over so early to _cook_, of all things.

"Yes, I have you… what is the word?" Maura asked, turning to Jane once Angela had left. She held up a carton of cream and said, "Whipped!"

Jane granted her a laugh at the joke, then said, "Uh, Maura? Do we, uh…" She waved her hand in the general direction of the guest house. "How do you want to do this? Telling people, I mean."

"What exactly is it you want to tell them?" Maura asked. "That we're dating? Technically, you haven't taken me out yet, detective."

"Will you let me, after the holiday is over?" Jane asked, rolling her eyes.

"Of course." Maura smirked and got back to her onions. "Since this is something you and I have clearly both been anticipating for some time now, I strongly believe we are going to make something out of it now. I like to tell my friends when I am in the process of seeing somebody, and I believe you and I are beginning the process of seeing each other. However, I understand if you would like to keep it under wraps for the time being." She frowned for a moment. "Well actually, I'm not sure if I would understand, but I would not be offended."

"Let's just take it as it goes then, all right?" Jane suggested. "I mean, if it comes up…" She couldn't really foresee any conversation that _would _bring it up, but still. "Let's not broadcast it right away." She pulled Maura into a brief kiss. "At least not to everyone. If you don't feel weird about it, you should tell who you like. I only, well, want you and I want this to myself for just a little bit. Except…"

"Except what?"

"Well…I dunno, I kind of want to tell Booth," Jane said, worrying that it might sound weird. "Just 'cause…" _Without his encouragement, I might never have said anything. He was the first person to know how I feel about you. He helped me get here, in your kitchen, with you in my arms_. "He's my best friend, and I feel like he should know." Maura nodded but looked a tad troubled, and Jane correctly guessed what was bothering her: "Booth's my best friend, Maura. You're my best everything."

And Maura was satisfied.

About a half an hour later, Angela rejoined them in the kitchen, and they were surprised that she had even succeeded in dragging Tommy along with her. Frankie arrived a couple of hours later, and it wasn't until 1:00 that Korsak and Frost arrived in a cab they had split. For better or for worse, Jane was just so happy about Maura and so glad to be sharing the holiday with so many people that she loved that she had practically forgotten about Alicia Howard and the case. Maybe compartmentalizing really did have its place.

Booth and Brennan were the last to arrive. Booth had slept in much later than usual, and indeed woke up only when Brennan had started knocking on his door in the late morning. She was kind enough to postulate about the reasons why he might have overslept for only two minutes before allowing Booth to change the topic.

"Do you know where Hodgins is?" he asked, looking around in vain for his roommate.

"Angela said they were heading out early to help her father procure a turkey."

"On Thanksgiving morning? Is that possible?"

(Neither of them realized Billy's plan was to shoot a wild one with Hodgins' help while Angela would be on hand to make sketches of the event, with the ultimate goal being to paint a manly, Remington-esque portrait of them holding their prize, the painting to be hung over a mantelpiece. Unfortunately, their poorly-planned turkey hunt was unsuccessful, but it was all right because Billy's friend and his wife were already in the process of making a turducken.)

"How was Alicia Howard's memorial service last night?" Brennan asked, sitting on the edge of Hodgins' bed.

Booth started making a cup of coffee. "Nice, you know? It was really nice. Very respectful, and her friend Eden had some really nice things to say."

"Hm. Did you find out anything? Anything that might help with the case?"

"Possibly," Booth said, ripping a sugar packet open with his teeth. "Talked to a lady who said she was uh, president of the uh… the woman's society thing in their church—I forget what Maura said it was called—but anyway, she talked to Alicia a lot when she was in Boston, not in school. She said what she always found the most impressive about this kid was that she had mastered the concept of turning the other cheek. Metaphorically," he added, preempting Brennan's next question.

"I've always found that concept a tad strange. It would be in one's best self-preserving interest to knock an opponent on the cheek instead of offering the other back to him."

Booth took his coffee and sat on his bed, facing Brennan. "Well, that just goes back to what Maura was saying about what they believe, those people. The natural man's instinct _would _be to fight back, but religion exists to help people repress that urge. All those kinds of urges."

"Quaint, but faintly ridiculous," Brennan assessed. "Natural impulses are natural for a reason. Self-preservation isn't a crime."

"I agree, Bones. I don't think the natural man always needs to be repressed."

"Nor do I."

"Ah, except when it counts though," Booth countered with a wicked grin. "Your natural man wants to be with me. And you're repressing that."

Brennan frowned and considered this. "It's possible that my natural woman wants to sleep with you, but that is not what I am repressing. The natural woman does not and can not engage in the type of full-on relationship that _you_ find necessary to survive."

"Cannot, ever? I thought you said you didn't believe in absolutes," Booth said, smirking at Brennan over his Styrofoam cup of coffee.

"What does this have to do with the case?" Brennan asked, sounding and looking vaguely annoyed.

Booth sighed, but figured he was lucky to have gotten in everything he'd been able to. "This lady mentioned that Alicia was quite friendly to people who had wronged her in the past, like even Dave Wilson's son."

"Wilson—Senator Howard's opponent?"

"Yup. Apparently their kids went to the same prep school, and Wilson's boys were basically brought up to hate the Howards' guts. Wasn't very nice to Alicia, but she grew to be nice to him, even though he showed no signs of being nicer to her."

"Would he have any motive for wanting her dead?" Brennan asked.

Booth shrugged. "Hated the religion she converted to." He sighed and gulped down the rest of the coffee. "Granted it's not a solid motive, but prejudice exists in all forms. Could be something. Anyway, that's the only thing I heard about her having any problems with people. Everyone was going on and on about how much everybody loved Alicia."

"Well, people are incline to become maudlin at events like funerals and memorial services," Brennan stated logically. "Unless you had run into somebody as forthcoming as I am, it's very unlikely that anyone would have approached a person they believed to be Alicia's religious leader and said anything against her character."

"That's where you start reading between the lines," Booth said. "Lots of people said she was a go-getter, and a really thorough one. Would track down and investigate everything she could down to the last detail. I think that's how she came to find out about her uncle's secret love nest and why she went to check it out. Now all we have to figure out is how _she _found out about it, and who told her. Maybe she put her nose somewhere it didn't belong, and someone got upset about it."

"Perhaps."

A brief silence passed between them before Booth said, "The human experience."

"What?"

He looked up at her. "The human experience. That's what Alicia was interested in studying. What sets us apart from the other species inhabiting earth?"

"Well, there are a great many biological and—"

"Bones," Booth sighed, lying back. "Ever consider the possibility that you think too much?"

"Only when you bring it up. And even then, I only consider it until something more intellectually stimulating shows up, which usually doesn't take very long."

By 1:30, the intrepid duo had arrived at Maura's extravagant home just in time for drinks and appetizers. When Jane opened the door to admit them, she pulled Booth into such a tight hug that for a few moments, he lost the ability to breathe.

"Whoa, there! Jane, what's the occasion?" he laughed.

"Thanksgiving, man! God I love you, you know that?"

"How close have you been getting to the cooking sherry?" Booth asked.

Jane pulled away and gave him a light punch on the shoulder. "C'mon, don't be mean. I'm just happy is all."

Booth raised an eyebrow and grinned as Maura engaged Brennan instantly in conversation. "How happy?" he whispered.

Nodding outside, Jane led Booth to the yard, where a somewhat ineffective football game was going on, pitting the Rizzoli brothers against Korsak and Frost. Korsak held up surprisingly well for his age, particularly impressive in his tackling abilities, wherein he would simply throw all his weight at whichever brother was attempting to score a touchdown.

"Four man football," Jane said, sitting on the porch steps and indicating that Booth should do the same. "Kinda sad, huh?"

"Gotta make do with what you have, I guess," Booth remarked, joining her. "So?" He grinned and elbowed Jane. "What happened last night after you two left?"

"I did it," Jane said, looking quietly triumphant. "I figured you were right, Booth. Enough's enough. If she didn't feel the same way, I really needed to hear that and be able to move the freak on, you know? So I told her, and she…" Jane let out a little laugh and turned to look Booth in the eye, smiling like an idiot. "She kissed me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And then I uh…I spent the night."

"Dude! Are you serious?"

"We didn't sleep together," Jane hurried to explain. "I mean we _slept _together, but we didn't like, do anything. If you know what I mean." A sound that could only be described as a dreamy sigh came out of her, and she rubbed her neck as she watched Frost make a perfect catch. "It was fantastic. It just _felt_ right, you know? I've got the gut instinct—I think you and I both have it, where we just know right away when something is the way it's supposed to be. I fell asleep with her in my arms, Booth. And it was amazing. Man, it was just…" She shrugged, and for lack of a better word, said, "Perfect."

Booth put an am around her and pulled her close for a sideways hug. "Damn, Rizzoli. Way to go."

"I just already want so badly for it to go right, you know? I kind of still can't believe I'm not dreaming. Like is this real? Will you pinch me?" Before Booth could do so, Jane received a football to the head. "OW! Who threw that?"

"You guys gonna join the game or not?" Tommy shouted.

Maura, Angela and Brennan watched from inside as Jane went to join her co-workers and Booth became an honorary Rizzoli brother. After deliberating for a moment, the ladies decided to bring out their drinks and finger food to better enjoy the game. A few times, Jane would look up to see Maura practically glowing, smiling at the perfect view of Jane's incredible athleticism at work. And Jane would grin back, relieved that she no longer had to hide how she felt, that she could hold Maura's gaze as long as she wanted to without worrying about Maura's reaction. These looks did not go unnoticed by Angela, and probably wouldn't have gone unnoticed by Brennan if the woman hadn't been distracted by so closely watching one Seeley Booth.

The game ended when Angela decided everyone involved would need time to clean up a bit before dinner, which itself was a feast that might have fed twenty-five people—which worked out about right, since Frost and the Rizzoli brothers could each eat enough for three. Jane realized she had been drinking more than usual lately, but today she wanted to drink for an entirely different reason: before it had been because she was depressed about her love life and disgusted with the way she had acted so unfairly towards Angela. Now she wanted to drink because of how much giddier it could make her feel. She remembered beer could be fun. Even Maura indulged a bit more than usual, getting into the spirit of things.

"I hope you all saved enough room for dessert," Angela eventually said, only after everybody had stuffed themselves beyond capacity. This didn't stop them from enthusiastically assuring Angela that by the time the day was over, all the dessert would be gone.

"Boy, I dunno, I might need to take a walk around the block first or something," Jane groaned. "Walk off some of this dinner!"

Brennan felt obligated to point out, "Detective Rizzoli—given the amount of food you have just consumed and the relatively short distance that the block encompasses, it would be impossible for you to simply 'walk off' that dinner."

"Aha, see, the key word was 'some of,'" Jane snickered.

"Well, that would be key _words_, actually," Maura said.

"Maura, don't be a nitpicker. Are you gonna come with me? I mean, are you gonna come _walk_ with me?"

"Oh, all right," Maura laughed.

She was slightly less happy when Jane invited Booth and Brennan to come along, too—she had wanted to be alone with Jane. But Jane, in her tipsy state of happy giddiness, just wanted to be around her best friend. Once they all four of them had gotten their shoes and coats back on, Jane loudly proclaimed her love for everyone remaining in the house before turning and following her party out the front door. If Booth hadn't been a bit tipsy himself, he might have recommended that it would be a classier move for Jane to walk ahead with Maura, instead of leading the way with her arm companionably around _his _shoulder as Maura and Brennan brought up the rear.

"Dr. Brennan," Maura sighed, as she watched Jane laugh with Booth. "How much store do you put in words, in language?"

"I should say a great deal, Dr. Isles. Words and concrete reason are what one of the few things which separates us from a great deal of other species." _Words and reason. Not emotion. _"Why do you ask?"

"It's just…" Maura sighed and rubbed her head. She hadn't drank that much, but she had drunk just enough to make her feel an oncoming bout of crippling self-doubt. "What is the difference between saying you love someone and saying you are _in _love with someone?"

After a short pause, Brennan said, "That is an excellent question, Dr. Isles. Unfortunately, as I'm sure you know, the English language has almost too many uses for the word 'love.' One might use that word to describe how they feel about a family member and also use it to describe his or her sentiments towards a favorite brand of pretzel. I admit, it is a limitation of our language, and I do think that is why the phrase 'in love' has entered our lexicon—to differentiate it from all the other uses. Unless you were possessed of a worrisome mental condition, you would not say you were _in love _with your favorite pretzel brand, or even a family member, really."

"You would only use it…for a lover?" Maura asked.

Brennan nodded curtly. "I should think that would be correct, yes. For example, I do think it would be a fair assessment to say that I love Booth. He is my partner, exceedingly good at what he does, and a very dear friend who I love to spend time with. However, I do not think I would go so far as to say that I am _in _love with him." …_would I?_

"Have you ever kissed?"

"Yes, we have."

If Brennan would have elaborated somewhat, she may have put Maura's not-quite-sober mind a bit more at ease. As it was, Maura frowned and tried to figure out exactly what Jane's sentiments towards her were. They had kissed after Jane had said she loved her. But today alone she had also professed love for Booth, Frost, Korsak, and even Bass. How much did that word mean to her? Had she meant to say she was _in _love with Maura? Had she forgotten that Dr. Isles needed things to be clear-cut and literal in order to properly process and interpret them? Why wasn't she walking with her now? Why had she said they ought to keep quiet about what had happened between them?

It had finally dawned on Booth that "You should be back there with Maura, Jane."

"You're right, I should," she chuckled. "Man, just looking at her puts butterflies in my stomach, you know? Feel like I'm seventeen again, talking to the prettiest girl in school! Only this time, that girl actually wants to talk back—hell, she wants to _kiss _me back!"

"Yeah, man, you're awesome," Booth laughed, clapping Jane on the back. "I can't believe it took you so long to say something!"

"Hey, man, I'm just glad I finally did! I still can't believe it—I can't believe Maura was so open to the idea of kissing another woman, even! I…" She trailed off when she caught sight of Booth's expression. He had gone from jovial and upbeat to suddenly tight-lipped and contemplative. They stopped walking, and Jane stared him down. Even with an alcohol-tinged mind, Jane could read an expression better than she could read some books, and Booth seemed to be saying an awful lot without opening his mouth. Maura and Brennan had since caught up, but before Maura could say anything, Jane loudly asked, "Was I not the first woman you've ever kissed?"

Booth took Brennan by the elbow and walked ahead. "C'mon, pal."

"What's going on with them?" Brennan asked, her eyebrows raised.

"They, er, it's complicated."

"Well judging by Detective Rizzoli's question, they have already crossed a line you seemed to think they would never reach."

"Yeah, well, they've hit a snag," Booth said, reaching for his phone when he felt it vibrating. It was a text from Angela Montenegro: _Hey, Booth – Jane's not answering her phone. Do you know if it'd still be cool if Hodgins, dad and I swung by? _Picking up his pace, Booth sighed and responded, _I don't think that'd be a good idea_.

Meanwhile Maura, trapped by her inability to lie believably, had been coerced into telling Jane most of the truth, and Jane was not happy about it: "How come you never told me you'd been with another woman before?"

Maura got defensive, feeling hurt by Jane's accusatory (if not totally inconceivable) tone: "Well, for the same reason we haven't discussed all the people I've ever been with!" _I never told you about Ian because of how he broke my heart. How could I tell you about Vivian, who nearly broke me entirely?_

"Wait, _all _of them?" Jane asked, misunderstanding the point. "How many women have you been with?"

Starting to get annoyed, Maura asked, "Well what do you want me to say, Jane? By societal standards of face symmetry and hip-to-waist ratio, I am considered rather attractive! I'm a doctor at the top of my field. I'm wealthy. Colloquially speaking, I am quite a catch."

Jane waved her arms around in faux deference: "Oh, well! Colloquially speaking, look at me! I'm Dr. Maura Isles! I graduated from med school when I was ten years old! My face looks like an angel carved it and my shampoo smells like heaven and my lips taste like peaches even when I first wake up! I can make anyone fall in love with me! Men! Women! Jane! Unicorns!"

The logical part of Maura vaguely knew they were both getting way too dramatic, but she could only concentrate completely on one thing Jane had said. In a trembling voice, she asked, "You're in love with me?"

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><p><strong>AN disclaimer**: So yeah, that entire last bit is taken from a brilliant comic by **Heather Hogan ** on afterellen dot com. Not mine, just as these characters are not mine. If you're still reading, please review!


	22. Cut 'n Dry

**A/N**: This chapter could also be called "In Which Alcohol Finally Isn't Totally the Villain."

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><p>It took a few moments for Jane to catch up with what Maura had just said. She hadn't even noticed that Booth and Brennan had walked back to the house to provide the privacy they felt the situation warranted. "I'm—Maura!" Her exasperated, heavily annoyed tone belied her words when she said, "Of <em>course <em>I'm in love with you!"

"Well how was I supposed to know that?"

"_How?_ I told you last night! We slept together! I said more than once that I was in love with you!"

"No you didn't, you said you loved me!" When Jane did nothing but give her that _what-the-freak-are-you-talking-about _which usually applied only to medical terms, Maura sighed impatiently and said, "You've also said you loved every person who came trudging through my door today! Whether or not you realize it, there is a very important albeit often-overlooked difference between saying you love someone and saying you are _in love _with someone!"

"I can't believe you, Maura, I really can't. Of all the things to get hung up on…" But Jane's anger was slowly seeping out of her, and she laughed ruefully, allowing Maura's defenses to go down a bit. Stepping closer, Jane took both of Maura's hands in her own and said, "Please. Don't doubt me. Don't doubt this. I'm… I'm in love with you. And if you'll give this relationship a chance, I want you to know that I'm in. I'm _all _in." She shook her head, as if trying to get rid of the alcohol she felt her brain was sloshing around in. "How could you think anything else?"

"I believe you," Maura whispered.

"Then what are we fighting about?" Jane asked, but one nervous look from Maura was all she needed to remind her. "Oh. Right," she said a bit darkly. "You've kissed women before."

"_A _woman, Jane. Just one."

"Still." Her voice became softer; she was suddenly anxious not to upset Maura in any way. Some part of her was vaguely aware of the fact that getting angry wouldn't solve anything. "You never told me. How come?"

Maura looked around. There was nobody else on the sidewalk, but she still didn't feel like having this conversation out in the wide open. Wordlessly she took Jane's hand and headed back towards her home. She felt Jane still upon realizing where they were going, but with a gentle tug, Maura led her to the guest house, which was currently vacant. Jane wondered if Booth had explained to her family that she and Maura were having a heart-to-heart, and that's why they hadn't returned yet. At any rate, they seemed to reach the guest house undetected. Once inside, Maura sat on the corner of the bed, and patted the spot next to her.

Once Jane had joined her, Maura asked, "How drunk are you?"

"Not very," Jane sighed, reaching out and stroking the back of Maura's hand until the doctor turned it over to interlock their fingers. "Just enough to be extra happy when I was happy, and extra paranoid and upset when I… found out you'd been hiding this from me. But I'm here, Maura, really. If you talk, I'll listen." She shrugged. "I've been waiting for you too long not to."

Maura closed her eyes. "It's… hard to know where to begin."

"Who was she?" Jane gently pressed her. "What's her name, how did you meet?"

"Officer Vivian Phillips."

A rueful little half-laugh came out of Jane. "She was a cop, too?"

"Yes. I met her when I was working in New York. It was… exhilarating being with her, with a woman. She treated me like a queen, she really did, and at first that was lovely. But it got to be too much. There were expectations we both had for each other which never got reached, and that frustrated us—me, especially. It became physical for her, purely physical. I would talk and get only the most basic, monosyllabic replies. She didn't want to talk things out as much as I'd hoped, and after months of knowing her, I realized I didn't know nearly as much about her as I thought I should have. And I hated—I _hated_ that she was constantly putting herself in physical danger. It felt as though my heart plummeted every time I got a call from the hospital, but she'd just put on this brave face and tell me there was nothing to worry about. I don't know if she ever really loved me." She laughed quietly, but it was the kind of laugh which sounded as though it was mocking the person who made it. "I know she loved having sex with me. A lot. She loved it a lot, and she loved having it a lot."

"Okay, Maura…"

"Right, sorry. My point is that—physical aspects of a relationship are of course very important, and naturally very enjoyable. But ideally, there should be more."

"I agree," Jane said softly. "But Maura—how come you never told me? And please, don't just say it never came up."

"Well, it didn't," Maura said.

"The hell it didn't," Jane shot back, fighting to keep her voice level. "I asked you for dating advice, I told you about who I was dating. All it would've taken was a simple 'well, when _I _did this or that for my girlfriend…' kind of thing, and that's all I'd have needed!"

"I'm no good at that," Maura said awkwardly. "You made it sound so smooth—you know I'd have to try and find a way to be direct, and besides." She sighed heavily. "When I left New York, I went to work in Philadelphia before I came here. The main reason I came to Boston was because I wanted to work in this town, but part of it was because I couldn't take the harassment at work."

Jane immediately shifted into righteous-indignation mode. "People harassed you there? For having been with a woman?"

"Sorry, no, not like that," Maura sighed, trying to figure out how best to explain this. "A very persistent surgeon kept asking me out, and I told him I didn't want to date anyone for a while because I had just gotten out of a really terrible relationship. He kept pressing me, and I told him it was a woman, and the next thing I knew, everyone kept telling me I should date another of the surgeons at the hospital, Erica Gray."

"A lesbian, I'm assuming?"

"Yes. But I didn't want to date her; I didn't want to date anybody. My co-workers refused to let it go, though, and after a couple of months I finally agreed to go out with her. It was fine, I had a nice time, but I wasn't interested in pursuing it any further. Erica wanted more, though. She eventually dropped it, but people in the department wouldn't. They made asinine assumptions, they jumped to conclusions, and I hated that. So…" She took a deep breath and finally looked Jane in the eyes again. "When I came to BPD, I decided not to say anything. Maybe that was stupid, maybe that was selfish. But I didn't want people to tell me I should date you. I didn't want them thinking because you were a lesbian and I had dated a woman that we should be together. I get anxious, Jane. I fret over things that nobody else ever does."

"But Maura—"

"Wait, there's more. I left New York because I couldn't stand to be in the same environment as Vivian anymore. And I don't want that to happen to us—Viv and I hardly knew each other before we started dating, but you and I, it's totally different. You are my _best _friend, Jane. Bar none." At some point, maybe just a few seconds ago, she had started crying. "If I didn't get to see you or talk to you every day, I would be devastated. It would ruin me. I've had to keep telling myself that it wouldn't be worth it to screw things up just for sex."

"You're right, it wouldn't be." When Maura gave a little sob at hearing this, Jane gripped her hand tighter and said, "_Just_ for sex? That would not be worth it. But that's not what I want, Maura, it's not what either of us wants. We want a relationship. And I can start off making promises right now: I won't treat you like a queen. I'll treat you like a human being. One who's brilliant, beautiful, and fun to be around—but human all the same. You've got your quirks, your off-days, your…" She shrugged and waved her hand vaguely. "Issues, by your own admission. I've got mine, too. But you gotta know this, Maura: you gotta know that my job will put me in danger. That's just how it goes. You could get those hospital calls on my account."

"I know that. I already have. And I know there's nothing you can do about it."

"I've taken risks before," Jane said quietly, rubbing her thumb over Maura's fingers. "Stuff that sometimes paid off, and other times just left me in a lot worse shape than I needed to be. All I could think about was the badge and how that meant I was supposed to give it my all. But …I think I can give it my all without being stupid. And I've been stupid. I'm not going to do that anymore. I'll maybe toe the line, but I won't ever cross it—not if I know that you were depending on me to make it out all right."

Maura cried out "oh!" and pulled Jane into a tight, trembling embrace. They sat like that on the edge of the bed for several moments, Jane rubbing Maura's back as the doctor tried to calm down.

"Just breathe deep, honey," Jane gently encouraged her. "Maura, I don't know what got you to suddenly be on board with this, or… how long you've felt this way, but I feel like I should just say this much more: I am in love with you in every possible way. I've never felt as close to someone as I have to you, that's the truth. I never get tired of being with you, and I could talk to you for hours."

She shifted her position to pull back just enough to kiss Maura softly on the lips. Maura returned it with a whimper, curling her fingers into Jane's hair and holding on tight.

"And that," Jane whispered, pulling back for breath, "makes me feel so good about taking things another step further. I am _beyond _attracted to you, to the point that I haven't been able to really be with anyone for a long time. I was just always thinking of you, thinking of us."

"Then you're not mad about it?" Maura asked. "You're not still mad that I didn't tell you about Vivian?"

Jane sighed and brushed away some tears from Maura's face. "I don't understand it, and I'm still kind of… annoyed, yeah. Most of your reasoning makes sense on a lot of levels, and the really important thing now is that we both want this to happen. That is what we both want, right? I don't want to speak for you."

"Then I'll just let this speak for itself," Maura said before leaning in to kiss Jane again.

While this reconciliation had been going on, Ma Rizzoli had (in a somewhat flustered state) put out dessert and brandy for people. She was a little worried about Jane and Maura, but Booth assured her that everything would be fine and that they would come back soon—which in truth, he could only hope for at best. He and the rest of the men were sitting on the couch and the floor in front of Maura's fancy TV, watching the game and stuffing their faces. Brennan was keeping Ma Rizzoli company in the kitchen, giving the older woman a lecture on the anthropological reasons for what men found so exciting about football and why it was so much more common for them to enjoy it in groups better than woman typically did. She was just complimenting her on the exceptional brandy when Booth walked up unexpectedly.

"Angela, you shouldn't be in here cleaning already!" he laughed. "Go enjoy the game with the guys. C'mon, I insist. You've been cooking all day. Let us help with the clean-up."

"Agent Booth, you don't have to do—"

"I know I don't have to, but I want to. Come on. I'll consider it a favor." With only a bit more of an argument, Angela smiled at him and obligingly walked over to the TV. Booth picked up her abandoned dish towel and flung it over his shoulder. "You wanna wash, and I'll dry?" he asked Brennan.

"You volunteered yourself for this," Brennan said lightly. "I'm just here to watch."

"Well if all you're going to do is watch, why don't you go watch the game?"

"Football bores me," she sighed. "I'd much rather watch you."

"Watch me clean dishes?"

She shrugged. "Watch you do anything."

Booth had been about to turn on the faucet, but at Brennan's words, turned to stare at her instead. "You okay, there Bones?"

By way of response, Brennan waved her glass and said, "This brandy is _really _excellent. Anyway, Booth, I've been thinking. Well, I think a lot. People generally do, but because of the nature of my work and the type of person that I am, I tend to think more than most people. Anyway, I called Sweets this morning."

"You what?"

"I called Sweets. This morning. Dr. Sweets."

"Wh…why?"

"Well before you and I came down for this trip—where let's face it, I have been mostly useless to the case—Sweets wanted to talk about our relationship again. Yours and mine. And I think he may have been right about some things."

Booth sighed and started washing one of the dishes. "Bones, I'd really appreciate it if you wouldn't bring other people into—I dunno, discussions about whatever our relationship is, all right?"

"But Booth, he helped!" Brennan insisted, walking around to the sink and shutting it off, forcing Booth to look at her. "I have almost never kissed you. I mean, you've nearly always been the one who kissed me, you initiated it, and I would break it off. The last time it happened, I told you I'm not a gambler and I didn't want to take a chance on being with you. And I think Sweets was right."

"About _what?_" Booth asked desperately.

"About why I was afraid. I have what he called abandonment issues," Brennan said with a shrug, trying to sound casual but acutely aware of the fact that tears were stinging her eyes. "I am accustomed to being left behind, thrown around. I'm not used to people staying. I'm just—I'm not."

Seeing the emotion that was threatening to overwhelm her, Booth reached out an arm and pulled Brennan into a hug. "You've said to me before that you don't believe in absolutes," he said quietly. "But you've contradicted that at least more than once. Remember that case I got pulled off of because I happened to be a suspect?"

"It would be a hard one to forget," Brennan sniffed.

"And you had to work with that other FBI agent. You told me you never wanted to work with anyone else from the FBI again besides me. You told me you only wanted to be _my_ partner." He pulled back to look Brennan in the eye, to make sure she was unequivocally aware of every ounce of his sincerity. "That confidence shouldn't have to stay restricted to our jobs, Bones. This thing between us, it's not going to go away. We've tried resisting it, and it's futile."

A loud cheering noise came from those watching the game in the living room, startling Booth and Brennan. They had nearly forgotten they weren't alone, that they were in someone else's home. Booth was about to suggest they move outside when Brennan tugged on his collar and pulled him into a kiss. It was completely chaste, and Brennan forced herself not think, just to feel.

_What is the human experience? What sets us apart, whether we like it or not, from other species?_

Kissing Booth made her feel safe. Being in his arms made her feel protected, even if she could take care of herself. He could protect her in more ways than just physically. In the time they had spent working together, she had already learned so much from him about human interactions. She had seen everything she had missed out on by putting people off at arm's length.

They broke off the kiss relatively quickly, wary of the fact that other people could turn at any moment and see them. "Now see, I really enjoyed that," Brennan mused.

Booth felt his heart sinking at her tone. "But?" he asked breathlessly, refusing to let go of her.

She shook her head. "No 'but.' I'd like to kiss you again. A lot, I think." She smiled encouragingly at him and wrapped her arms tighter around his waist. "What I have to learn to accept is that you are what Angela might call a complete package: I can't just have your lips. You want a lot more than that. If you're willing to be patient with me, I can learn to be more patient with you."

"Meaning…"

"I'd like to test a hypothesis. I think a real date would be in order. You know, where both parties are aware that things have gone beyond flirtation or basic sexual attraction. Booth, I think you would make an ideal life partner. We just need to run an experiment to see if you'd be ideal for _me_." His expression was a bit harder to read now, cuing her to add, "I know you'll give it everything you've got, because you always give a hundred percent of yourself to things that are important to you. Sometimes even to things that _aren't _that important to you! Running away and giving up isn't your..." She fumbled for the right word. "Style."

Their flow was interrupted once again, this time by the nearby door swinging open and admitting Jane and Maura, who were walking hand-in-hand. Nodding at Booth, Jane asked, "What the hell, man? This is Thanksgiving; guests don't clean up. Have you even eaten dessert yet?" She gasped upon seeing that pies had already been put out and much of them gone. "How come nobody called us for dessert?"

"You mean aside from the fact that we had no idea where you were?" Booth asked with a grin.

"Shut up, man."

"You two shouldn't be in here," Maura said, pulling the towel off Booth's shoulder and tossing it onto the counter. "Let me do that."

"No, no, Dr. Isles," Brennan said, giving her a light tap on the shoulder and handing the dish towel back to Booth. "Allow us. It's the least we can do after you so graciously invited us over for the holiday last-minute. You and Detective Rizzoli try some of the pies. They're quite delicious. And when you're done…" She laughed and put an arm around Booth. "I'll wash, he'll dry."

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><p><strong>AN**: I would have very little qualms about stopping now, to be honest. If more resolution is requested, I could add another chapter and possibly an epilogue- more closure, and solving the case! (I guess that's the one thread that hasn't been finished, although let's be real, cases are never the reason any of us reads fanfiction. Or watches the shows, for that matter, haha.)


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